Love Among Blood
by AnnaW14
Summary: Clary Morgenstern is not sure what to do with herself. After living with her abusive family in Allicante for so long, she is sold to a rutheless warlord. Is he really what he seems? Can she learn to love him? Rated T for now, may change later for violence and lemons (maybe). I do not own TMI or any of its characters.
1. An Anouncement

An Announcement-

Soft light trickled through the thin white curtains. Outside, a light breeze drifted through the grass creating a faint but constant shuffle. Every now and then a bird would chirp or a voice far off in the distance could be heard. It was peaceful. _Too peaceful_, the small redhead thought.

The girl lay in her bed, luxuriously stretching her thin limbs, and watched the scenery. Fingers trailed through daylight dust and lashes fought for clarity. She couldn't say why but despite the seemingly calm demeanor of the day something felt off. In the distance a light rumble sounded, suggesting a coming storm. _I wonder if that will be the only storm today, _she thought_. _Clarissa Morgenstern slowly sat up on her forearms, arching her back her neck fell, allowing her crimson locks to float gently down her back. Friends and family had often told the girl that she was quite striking, though she didn't see this herself. "So modest" her parents had chuckled. After a long and laborious stretch, Clary, as she liked to be called, finally sat up in full taking in her surroundings. Across the room there sat a full-length mirror, positioned just so that she could see her reflection.

The first thing one would notice about her would be the thick curling flame she called hair. It rested in smooth waves down past her waist. It had once been frizzy and wild but had been tamed in a gradual slop of time. _Thank goodness for that_ she mused. Clary's personal favorite feature was that of her eyes, resembling a set of wide-set emeralds, almost too big for her face. She looked like a fragile porcelain doll, too delicate to be handled by even the most delicate of touches. In fact everything about her seemed small and childlike. From her 5ft height to her tiny waist, barely there chest and rose bud lips. _More like an overgrown child…perhaps not so overgrown…_She trailed off. An urgent knocking interrupted her thoughts as her brother entered.

Jonathan Morgenstern was considered beautiful, resembling their father. Where she was soft, he was all hard angles and white gold features. He was a stoic figure capable of the cruelest of punishments. The only hint of the hidden monster resided within his eyes. On more than one occasion he had lost his temper with Clary's stubbornness and lashed out. She possessed the marks to prove it, though she hid it well.

"Darling sister…" his voice cooed, "…taking your precious time rising I see. It's nearly noon and father grows impatient, you see-" a slow smirk spread across his features, "-we have quite the news." He leaned against her bed, his breath ghosting across her face in a silent whisper, waiting for a reaction. When he saw the questioning look in her eye he chuckled lightly and kissed her on the forehead, his lips lingering a little too long. "I know that look, but I'm afraid father wanted to speak with you personally. Best hurry up and get dressed before you anger him further." With that Jonathan swept out of her room with not but a sound, leaving a bewildered Clary in his wake.

Not long after, two maids came bustling into her room carrying a pale blue gown. They quickly shooed her from the bed and set to work. The first maid, an elderly woman by the name of Amatis combed through Clary's hair non-too gently, and swiftly braided it into a bun, resting at the back of her head. By this time Clary had been stripped and re-clothed in a corset and bodice. Slipping the rest of the dress over head, Clary appraised the outcome, hoping that no marks were visible on her frail skin. The dress was simple yet flattering. Pale pinstripes descended down her torso to form a long skirt. Clary pulled out several pieces of hair to keep from looking too formal in her own house before pulling back satisfied. As she worked a few final corrections into her appearance she heard the familiar booming voice of her father, beckoning her down from the confines of her room.

As she descended the stairs she heard the voice of her father, "Ah, Clarissa at last. I was beginning to think you had passed away in the night." His tone was soft to her relief; she had not angered him.

"Father-" she greeted, "-you know how I love my sleep. It keeps me nice and calm-" _Not to mention kind_, she though silently.

"How silly of me to assume you would grace us with your presence" he joked "Now, down to business."

He walked briskly and with purpose to his study, expecting Clarissa to follow. She did just that, though she secretly longed for a bite to eat. Upon entering his study she spoke "Yes, what is this mysterious business that Jonathan was all riled up about. I do hope it meets my expectation as I would hate to have gotten out of bed only to realize it was all for nothing." Her father paused where he was and looked out across the land.

Her father was poised man coming from a good family. Although he was a high-ranking lord of Allicante, titles tended not to have much meaning ever since the conflict had broken out. When he was a young man, several of the other nobles had become power hungry and rose up. Ever since then it had been every man for himself. Because of her family's immense wealth, they had faired quite well, protecting the lands from harms way. She knew that parts of the kingdom were so ravaged from battle that fearsome and powerful warlords had risen, destroying much of the old power families. Her thoughts briefly flitted to the one they called _Shadowhunter._ She gave an involuntary shiver as she thought of the rumors: entire cities overrun, people enslaved, they said he was covered in strange markings and fought with glowing blades. So much violence and pain…

"Clarissa," a sharp voice pulled her out of her thoughts, "keep your head out of the clouds and focused when I speak to you." She quickly apologized with a downcast gaze. "Look at me." She complied. "Much to my disappointment, our troops have failed us. One of our enemies has managed to break through our line of defense." He waited for her reaction and was satisfied with the surprised look on her face.

"But Father-"

"No, let me finish. This individual has sworn to leave our land, money and army intact if we could find something to give him. Your brother Jonathan thought of a rather marvelous solution. In return for the safety of our kingdom, you are to be wed to him as soon as possible."

Clary froze, ice crept into her chest and her body was raked with dread. She quickly sucked in a breath, unable to think of a response. When she thought she had control over her voice again she asked, "What do you mean? You are selling me, your only daughter to some violent, disgusting, greasy mongrel?" Her voice was far more panicked than she intended. "What about me? Have I got any say in the matter? You didn't even think to ask before making this decision!"

The look on her fathers face silenced her.

"I had hoped you would understand the benefit to your people." His voice was deadly calm as he continued, "This would also allow for an alliance between us… The most powerful of alliances."

Clary was nearly shaking with anger. "You would treat me as a slave, your own flesh and blood, and yet you still wonder why your wife left you all those years ag-" Clary was silenced by a flash of pain on her face. Her father had struck her, grabbing by the shoulders and pulling her up to his face. Her toes could barely reach the ground as he pressed her back into the corner of the table. Deep in his eyes she could see the dark storm within; it reminded her of the power and violence he held. She wondered to herself why she would be so afraid of her future husband when she had already been raised by Valentine Morgenstern.

"I you have any ounce of intelligence in that tiny nut you call a head, you will make note of this and you're tongue. I should have known that Jocelyn's daughter would be just as useless and selfish as she was. I find myself glad to be rid of you." As the words left his mouth he backhanded her, smacking her face into the window, effectively cracking it and leaving a thin trickle of blood on her face. He moved as though to attack her again but was caught by another hand.

Jonathan stood with a strange look on his face. Enraged, Valentine roared, "You dare to defy me! You, whom I would call my son, would challenge me? Both my children such disloyal, ungrateful-" No doubt he would have continued but was cut off by her brothers voice.

"I simply mean to keep her intact for her husband. I doubt he would be happy to learn that he had given up our kingdom for a piece of bloody meat." Instead of responding, Valentine turned and stalked off leaving Clary on the ground. He had never been a very good father, never offering comfort or protection to her. His words still stung though. Almost as an afterthought, Clary rushed passed calling to her father, "At least tell my his name."

Without turning to face her he replied "the _Shadowhunter_" and was gone.


	2. Names

**Names**

After her father had left, Clary had simply stood where she was. It could have been hours or it could have been minutes; it made no difference to her. She was to be married to the Shadowhunter. She would forever be tormented by a ruthless killer. To her future husband, Clary knew she would be no more than a slave; a little toy to dress up and bring to parties. Numbly, Clary finally began to move to the staircase. Supporting all he weights on the railing, she slowly made her way to her room where she planned on collapsing.

As she walked, the hallways seemed to stretch and for each step she took, another was added. Eventually she reached her room where she approached the fireplace. Once in front of the grand centerpiece of the room, Clary stretched her hands out in an effort to warm them. Her entire body had lost all feeling at the news from this morning. She had run the scene through her head to see if she had missed something…_It must be a misunderstanding_, she thought. _There is no way that this man could have broken through father's forces, no way at all. We are the wealthiest and most powerful family in the nation._ As she thought this, another crossed her mind. _Why would he give it all up for me? I'm just some girl that he has never met. What if I had been hideous? _All of this was making Clary's head hurt, so she ungracefully clumped to the ground in a tiny heap.

Clary lay there for some time, simply wallowing in self-pity and hate. Why was she allowing this to happen? She couldn't even stand up for herself. Perhaps she did deserve this fate after all. Maybe she didn't deserve freedom if she wasn't willing to fight for it. Just then, another thought crossed her mind. Her brother had protected her form her father! It may not have been for Clary's own benefit, but still… he had stopped it. These thoughts turned once more to her future husband. _What if he isn't so bad? What if he wants to protect me… or even asked to keep me unharmed?_ No. How could a warlord be gentle like that if that was his chosen profession, then he was almost certainly not a good man. As she laid there, her eyes slowly went over to the dying fire. She placed another log in the pit as her hand quickly darted out and seized the handle of the poker, gently prodding the coals until a decent flame was blazing. Without realizing it, she had brought the poker to her hand and tightened her fingers around the tip. Feeling a sharp zing of pain splinter through her arm, she cried out, dropping the metal in the process.

Soon after, Amatis ran into the room, bandages in tow. "Clarissa! Are you all right? What hap…" She paused taking in the scene around her. The woman had grown used to the girls cries, but realized that no on else was in the room.

"What are you doing to your hand?"

"N-nothing" Clary stuttered in return, holding out her hand.

"Give me that" Amatis chirped, snatching at Clary's other hand and gasping at what she saw.

"Clary," she scolded, "why on Earth would you do that?" her face returned to the loving look of a mother bird as she lead Clary over to the corner of her bed, sitting her down and pulling out her supplies. Clary watched as the older woman worked over her injured hand. She softly smoothed a salve over the puckered skin that sent waves of tingling through her body. Next she wrapped elegant strands of silk around the area to provide comfort and finally a thicker material for protection.

"Now child, do you want to talk about this?"

Instead of responding, Clary asked her own question, looking down at her hands as she did so. "Did you know?"

Slightly uncomfortable now, "Know what?"

Clary turned her piercing gaze on her maid and stood up. Looking down her servant the mistress of the household asked with force, "Did you know about my father's plans this morning?" Green fire blazed within the small girl's face. She felt humiliated and used. This was no time to push her further.

Amatis could not bring herself to answer. Of course she had known, word spread like wildfire around the servants quarters, but her instructions and been not to give away any information.

"You are dismissed from my service, do not return…though I suppose I will be leaving soon. No matter, I do not wish to see you again."

The words were harsh, Clary knew, but seeing as she was not allowed to take her anger out on herself, who better than a servant. The woman may have been kind to her as a child, but Clary would no longer be seeing her with this particular future ahead of her. Amatis stood up and left, eyes downcast in shame, she did not look back.

Once Clary knew she was alone, she sat back on her bad and grasped her scalp, gigging her fingernails into the tender skin. "Quite a little scene there sister." Her brother's voice loomed above her.

"What do you want Jonathan?"

"A man can't visit his family without ulterior motives? Well I never!" He mocked. "Sad though it may be," he continued, "You are to leave in the morning! You must be packed and ready for when his friends arrived… you may want to save that open mouth of yours for your husband, though it is a tempting offer." He stalked off, before she could respond, and hastily closed her mouth as a deep red spread across her face. Leave it to Jonathan to say something so barbarous.

Clary suddenly felt very tired and lay down. Before drifting off to sleep, she left a note on her door, instructing the maids to pack her things quietly as she did not wish to be woken. In the morning she would leave with friends of the Shadowhunter and never see her home again. _That_ she thought, _may not be so bad…_

**Next Day…**

Clary woke with a start, breathing hard she sat up slowly. As her vision came into focus so did her hearing. There was a quiet tapping on her bedroom door. Slowly she placed her feet on the ground and gently twisted her spine around, releasing all of the tension. Before going to the door, she bent over and stretched out the backs of her legs. Eventually she made it to the door and timidly opened it a bit. A maid, not Amatis, was standing on the other side with a nervous look in her eye.

"My Lady Clarissa, your father wants you ready as soon as possible. Your future husband has sent his friends to bring you to him!"

With this news, Clary groaned, turning around and allowing the door to swing open. The maid hurried in and brought out leather-riding boots, placing them by my feet to step into. Since she was going to be on a horse all day, Clary wouldn't need a very tight corset…_Thank the Angel._ Quickly she laced me into a loose green riding dress with brown ribbons up the front and slits up the sides for better movement. As she heard her fathers voice beckoning her down, Clary slipped on a simple grey cloak and proceeded to descend down the stairs.

It was a cold goodbye. No tears were shed as Clary briskly hugged her father and kissed her brother on the cheek. No one said anything until her father pointed out the door and said, "Daughter, we do not wish to keep your husband waiting later than he must, go now and do not linger any longer." The small girl obeyed and brushed out of her home with an heir of cool confidence. She held her head high with shoulders back, acknowledging neither her servants nor family.

Once outside, Clary noticed a small grouping of no more than five people and six horses. A girl with long silken black hair stood at the front of the party, her deep brown eyes offset the sharp features dawning her beautiful face. She was built like one of the dancers that Clary's father had brought in for her Birthdays. Clary had never heard of women being trained as soldiers, though this was a completely different culture. Next, Clary's eyes fell on the exotic man towering over the other girl. He regarded her with pointed cat eyes, sporting black leather body armor accented with metal spikes. Beside the two leaders stood several cloaked figures, their faces hidden from view. They gave Clary an uneasy feeling as though they were something other than human.

As she approached, the tall girl stepped forward, extending her hand,

"You must be Clarissa, my name is Isabelle Lightwood."

Clary reached out and grasped the other girl's hand, giving it a curt shake. The man now came forward; lowering his head in respect he introduced himself.

"And I am Magnus Bane… the magnificent that is, at your service."

Without allowing Clary to respond, one of the masked figures hoisted her onto one of the magnificent animals. Clary gave a light cry of protest but did not struggle as the others were already mounting. _Is this what all conversations will be like now? _Clary wondered to herself. As she thought this, Isabelle kicked her horse into a fast gallop, as though she wanted to be anywhere but here, and was soon followed by everyone in the group. Clary's horse had followed of it's own accord, making her uneasy as she felt the stubborn power residing within the beast. Hard strong muscle rippled beneath the smooth chocolate hair of its stomach, several black spots dotting its backside. Clary's hands gripped the saddle with all their might to keep from falling off as she thundered after the group, wincing as pressure was applied to the burn.

Turning around as she rode, Clary glimpsed her old home falling in with the background. It was a beautiful old house. White marble pillars surrounded the semi-circle shaped rotunda, mimicking the style of ancient cultures found hundreds of years ago. Deep green ivy twined its way up the side of the house, only breaking apart at the indent of windows. Towers marked each corner of the house, one couldn't tell from outside, but these very towers also stretched beneath the ground to the dungeons. Clary had spent a fair amount of time down there to know the truth. A thick garden surrounded it, separating it from the simple flat plains around her. A dark and threatening cloud resonated above it, almost as a warning to stay away from those within. This was a dark house. Clary breathed an audible sigh of relief as it flickered out of existence.

Some time later, Clary was lulled out of focus by the thundering of hooves strikes. These horses never seemed to tire as the continued on at the same pace for hours. She had never realized just how large her father's lands were. As she looked around at the bleak landscape littered with an occasional military camp or outpost, she failed to notice that the riders had slowed and Isabelle was falling back with Clary.

"You're an excellent rider Clarissa." She commented

Clary was snapped back into reality "Please, call me Clary…and thank you."

"I must apologize for our earlier coldness-" Isabelle was interrupted by another voice as Magnus came to join them.

"We didn't feel particularly welcome at your home, you see, your father didn't seem particularly happy to give you away."

"He was mostly sour because he felt like you stole something that once belonged to him… it wasn't because he actually cared about me" Clary clarified.

"I see we have done you a little favor," Isabelle smiled, "it seems you weren't too pleased be there in the first place."

"You aren't wrong." Clary paused, "Where is that we are going?"

"To the edge of your father's lands, Jace's last troop left for home this morning. If we are quick we can catch them, if not… we'll make due on our own."

Frowning at the unfamiliar name, Clary responded "Jace?"

"…Is your future husband it seems." Magnus drawled, a grin on his angular face.

_Jace, _the name sounded soft, kind. Surely a brutal man would have a name far more intimidating. Though, no one seemed the least bit afraid at the mention of their leader. _So much stock in a name_… was all Clary could think as they rode on into the day.


	3. The Markets of Calinome

The Markets of Celinome

Clary had not realized just how large her homeland was until she had to walk across it. Apparently her father's maps had not been terribly accurate, as they failed to mention the names of the many lands within. Each overlord had his or her own country of sorts within Allicante. The nobles from before the war had ignored this, as it would mean that the country was no longer whole and therefore less powerful because there could be no supreme ruler. Any country not controlled by an old power family, like her father's, was deemed as a part of Downworld. Isabelle had told her that Clary's new husband to be had named his country Idris, after the angel for whom he bore his marks. Idris was apparently the largest kingdom around, only sharing a mountainous border with her father's land. For this reason, they were forced to cross two other countries, so as to avoid injury during the harsh winter storms. Clary herself had never experienced such coldness, as much of her childhood was spent in the dry plains area of Veitia, as it was called. Though she had been given a _proper_ education, she still had so much to learn about the real world that had flourished outside her heavily protected doorstep.

Startling Clary out of her trance came Isabelle's voice.

"We should arrive in a week and a half or so."

_So long?_ Clary voiced her thoughts out loud.

"If we had caught up to the troops at the mountains it would have been shorter, though only a fool would try to cross the Brocelind Mountains with such a small group. We do not possess the equipment nor the skill for such a treacherous path." She paused for a moment before stating, "We should enter Celinome within the hour."

This bit of news excited Clary quite a bit as she had never left the grounds of her old home, excluding several minor excursions with her family for picnics and other such meaningless activities. As the group had traveled onward, she had noticed the changes in the landscape. It had happened so subtly that she hadn't even realized the trees now lining her path.

"What is Celinome like? I never really got the chance to examine the various dealings and conflicts within our nation." She asked.

Without missing a beat, Isabelle responded, "Celinome is one of Jace's many allies. King Patrick Penhallow and his wife Gia rule there and want to join forces completely, make one unstoppable country. The only problem is Pandemonium. The Verlac family strategically invaded the predeceasing nation that stood there to prevent this very union. Unfortunately we will have to pass through the southern border in order to reach our destination. The border is largely unprotected because they aren't expecting a southern attack, we should slip by unnoticed."

The forest had grown denser as they had spoken, forcing the travelers to ride in pairs with Clary and Isabelle in the middle while the oddly silent Magnus Bane remained at the forefront. They had been going at this steady pace, without running into any other passerby's for two days now. Clary was beginning to feel the ache in between her thighs, as the muscle grew stiff. She could only imagine what it felt like for the poor beast below her, though she supposed it had been conditioned. Clary gently rubbed the horses neck, hoping to transfer her gratitude. Noting the sudden interest in the horse, Isabelle quickly said, "Wayfarer…the horse's name is Wayfarer. He once belonged to Jace's mother."

"His mother?" Clary responded with excitement! "How can this horse still be so nimble and strong?"

"Magic of course. The land is riddled with it. Have you really been so sheltered as to not recognize magic?"

"My father mentioned the use of it of course. He condemned the Downworlders that, in his words of course, would stoop to such a low level as to use demonic essence in battle and everyday life. I have never seen its use in person." Clary felt ashamed as a slow blush crept up her cheeks and neck. It was then that she realized that Magnus Bane had fallen back with the two girls.

"Never seen magic?" He suddenly asked curiously. "You poor child, what must your childhood have been like without a little sparkle every now and again?"

"It wasn't a happy existence, I'll give you that." As soon as the words had left her mouth, Magnus had lifted his fingers to catch a feather floating in the breeze. As soon as the delicate object had touched his fingers, it burst into a blue flame, sending out glittering tendrils of light. Each beam shot around Clary like little birds, only to burst into small fire stars before her eyes. Clary was now laughing and clapping at the stunning spectacle like a little child that had just received the best birthday present. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her entire life. Magnus grinned back at her, a mischievous glint to his eyes.

"Each kingdom has it's own use for magic." By now Isabelle bad backed off, allowing Magnus to fill in her space, as this was clearly his area of expertise.

"As you have no doubt noticed, the landscape is altered, sometimes more drastically than others, depending on the type of magic that resides within. Calinome uses Fyornlin magic, focusing primarily on the woodland folk. The towns are all well hidden within the forest, carved into trees, though we are quite far from any official towns at this point." Clary noted an off glimmer in his eye but said nothing. "The people are also somewhat strange looking. Once we come across a market you will see what I mean. Don't stare too much; you'll call unwanted attention to yourself. " He noted, "Perhaps the most extreme case of magical influence on the natural world is that of Pandemonium. The Verlac's have always possessed strong ties to dark magic. Queen Lilith is said to come from the blacklands themselves. Because of that combination, all of the vegetation has died, leaving a barren wasteland warped with madness and mountains."

"What about Veitia?"

"Your father has allowed the land to hold it's normal appearance. As far as I know, the land is clean. It is surprising though…that your father has maintained his power this long without a little help."

"Valentine is a cunning man. He is an exceptionally gifted fighter and leader, though ruthless, he can inspire his fighters with only the highest training available in battle tactics." Clary paused before continuing, "What he lacks in character he more than makes up for in strategy."

Magnus was silent for a moment. "What was he like to grow up with?"

"He wasn't kind if that is what you are inquiring, he always preferred Jonathan; the perfect killer. I think he saw himself in my brother, where as I remind him too much of the wife that left us after I was born."

"What happened to your hand…Clary"

She was suddenly very uncomfortable with the situation. She supposed that she had grown used to the ache in her hand and had barely noticed it until now. The pain surged back with a new vengeance. She winced as it bumped into the saddle.

"That was an accident."

"An accident?" He said disbelievingly. "Did your father hurt you?"

"No-well yes…what I mean to say is not this time."

"You aren't making sense darling." Magnus pulled up short cutting of Wayfarer's path. The horse snorted in disapproval before leaning down and plucking off the buds of a flower with its teeth.

"I burned myself is all…nothing to be worried about."

"Is that all Clary?" He pressed. By now Isabelle and the other soldiers were eagerly listening to their conversation.

"I-I, yes Magnus. That _is_ all." Though she stuttered at first, a new strength found her voice. This seemed to satisfy Magnus for the time being and he quickly pulled his horse away from her, allowing for her passage. Clary exhaled a deep sigh of relief that she hadn't realized she was holding in. She wasn't entirely sure why she was so defensive over her burn. She supposed that she was still embarrassed by her submission to her father. More than that, she didn't want to know how these strangers would react if they found out that she had willingly partaken in pain. They wouldn't understand that she needed to clear her head and free herself from some of the bottled up emotions that she had kept under lock and key until now. Though she liked Magnus and Isabelle from what little conversation they had had on this journey, she didn't entirely trust them yet. Her thoughts were interrupted when Isabelle clapped her hands together, exclaiming that they had arrived!

"Arrived where?" Clary asked curiously, searching for something in the woods.

Magnus pointed to a tree with strange swirling markings. "You cannot see it yet, but believe me you will soon.

Not long after she had asked, Clary began hearing ever-increasing music. Flutes and Bells and Drums thrummed to an exotic beat that made her feat crave a dance. A warm glow was steadily rising over the hill before Clary's group, peaking her interest even further. As they neared the top, the riders dismounted, continuing on foot. Clary could take the wait no longer as she hurried to the crest of the hill, Wayfarer in tow. The sight below was so different to anything she had every seen before.

A massive cluster of shops lined the clearing in the forest. Each stall was wooden and carved with intricate faces and scenery; some sporting metal welding while others possessed silk screens for decoration. Colored lanterns hung between each window, crisscrossing across the narrow passageways in-between. She couldn't make out what was being sold at this distance, but her imagination was running- no- sprinting wildly through the endless possibilities. Magnus came up beside her, a deep chuckle escaping his lips as he saw the expression on her face.

"Welcome to the city of Laedolin, better known as the Goblin Market of the Faeryn fields." Magnus continued down the hill without pause, winding through the brush as he went. Clary followed as quickly as she could without tripping. Once they reached the bottom, Isabelle turned to the silent guards and told them to find a place for them to stay for the night. The three men parted with all of the horses, without uttering a single word. Clary was about to comment on the strange silence when Isabelle caught her hand and began towing her through the crowd. Clary took in the scenery before her with an overwhelming amount of curiosity. Magnus had been right when he had said that the people were strange. Though their skin remained earthen tones, some were extreme browns or ivories, setting them apart from anyone Clary had ever seen. Everyone's eyes were narrow and pointed, sporting a wide array of colors from electric blue to fiery orange. A small number of the population had small horns sprouting from their temples, while others bore long pointed ears. The feature that struck Clary the most, were the marks on their skin. It looked as though someone had pressed multiple blades into their skin all at once, creating terrifyingly intricate patterns and constellations across flesh. It looked painful, but at the same time the symbols seemed to speak of rebirth, growth and life. Suddenly it hit her; these people were trying to mimic the pattern of the tree bark in the woods.

"…Clary? Are you even paying attention to me?"

"What?... No Isabelle, I'm sorry. I just got caught up in my mind again."

"I've noticed that happens often." Isabelle's laugh sounded through the crow like wind chimes, drawing attention to the two girls. Isabelle was beautiful. Only a fool would deny it. She was seemingly perfect with her long limbs that carried an obvious strength and grace to them.

"Jace said that if we happened across anything you liked on our journey, that we were to stop and purchase it. Let me know if something catches your eye."

Clary stopped suddenly, jerking Isabelle with her. "Why is he doing this? Why does he care?"

Isabelle sighed, seeing something in Clary's eyes she responded, "He isn't exactly what the rumors say. Don't get me wrong, he is cold and ruthless and can be terribly cruel, but…he is also gentle. He won't want _you_ to hate him."

"What is he to you? You speak of him as though you are more than friends."

"No, no Clary, it's noting like that. We were raised together like siblings. My brother Alec is his parabatai...brother in battle. He is…difficult I suppose." A strange look crossed her face as she puckered her lips slightly. "Never mind that, lets enjoy ourselves for the time being It has been ages since any of us have had a break from riding.

Clary stopped looking at the crowd and ceased her endless questioning, instead focusing on the various shops around them. Some stores were shrouded in dark cloth, like tents, hiding countless treasures unknown. Vials containing everything from shrunken body parts and twisted roots to colorful libations and spicy foods. There were art stalls with carvings so detailed that they seemed real and colors so bright that Clary couldn't imagine the pigments used. Trinket shops held glass eyes that moved across the passerby's, making Clary shiver, and others with maps of lands that Clary hadn't known existed. One store in particular caught Clary's eye. She hadn't drawn in ages, though this was part of a punishment devised by her father after she had spilled wine on the rug.

She dragged Isabelle into the store lined with so many journals and sketchbooks of all different makes that one could hardly make out the mahogany shelves behind. On the far end lay glass cases containing a wide array of paintbrushes, charcoal, smudgers, palettes and quills. Behind the counter lay the paints in colors Clary had only dreamed of using in every variant possible. After pouring through every nook and cranny, Clary and Isabelle selected an oxblood leather bound sketchbook with the image of two crossed swords surrounded by a border of roses, pressed into the cover like an engraving. Black paint was worked into the design, adding dimension to the already worn cover. Along with that, she purchased a roll of paintbrushes and a simple wooden box to hold various pigments and other tools. She had missed the feel of canvas gliding across her knuckles as she pressed color and shading into the very fabric of the material, forever changing the page to something beautiful and entirely unique. Isabelle had mentioned that she had never learned to draw, though her heart had always lusted for it. Clary had offered to give her some pointers, but Isabelle declined, claiming her art was best made with a whip and dagger.

Stumbling from the shop with chased goodbyes, the girls ran for a shop selling juice in every color that the art store had held. Isabelle greedily drank from her cup of pomegranate rosewater while Clary delicately sipped at the mint lemonade. Apparently her father's hours of reinforcement of manner and poise had truly been engrained in her chest. The girls wandered for a very long time discussing their lives. Isabelle grasped early on that Clary wasn't entirely comfortable with the discussion of her past and simply allowed Clary to speak when ready. She told her of her mother, and her love of reading, how she loved to hide in the library and hope that her brother would leave her in solitude. Isabelle had jokingly called Clary a hermit, to which Clary responded with a flowery giggle. The other girl told Clary about her brother Alec, how he was always so solemn and how her parents had taken Jace in after he died. At one point she had let slip that she had lost her youngest brother Max in a fire. "You two are so similar you know." Was all she said before lapsing into a comfortable silence. Clary felt they could be great friends, a prospect which both excited her and frightened her terribly as she had never had one before. She had only ever known Jonathan and he was always too close or too distant.

The girls continued to wonder aimlessly until Clary realized the absence of Magnus.

"Where is our mysterious Mr. Bane?"

"You're just noticing now? Honestly Clary, I don't know what I am going to do with you." She stated. "I believe that that old crone has gone off to attend to personal business and to stock up on medicine. He was worried about your hand you see."

Just then, Clary's hand brushed against the softest fabric she had ever felt. Turning, she ran her fingers along the silk, reveling as it ran across her artist's fingers like water. She turned to Isabelle before realizing that her friend was already examining a set of jade bracelets at a nearby vendor's stall. _I'll only be gone for a moment_ Clary thought, as she pushed the curtain aside, stepping into the clothing store.

The walls were lined with thick red velvet that cascaded across the walls like water falls; the racks creating tunnels that seemingly went on for ages. Each piece was embroidered with glimmering crystals and extravagant sceneries that looked as though they could grace the front of a famous artesian tapestry. Running her hands along the soft fabric, Clary closed her eyes and simply walked without purpose. She felt like she could breath. Now that she was away from her father's watchful eyes, she felt free. No one could stop her for the time being. _Not until I reach Idris_ she thought bitterly. No matter what Isabelle said about him, she couldn't let her hopes rise only to fall back with the realization that her husband would be just as controlling as her family. Clary slowly opened her eyes to find that she had unknowingly entered another room. It had several piles of pillows along the walls meant for those that had to wait for their companions to change clothing. She was about to turn back when she heard a voice behind her.

"Hello little dove, are you lost?"

Slowly she turned back to face her pursuer. The first thing that hit her were the eyes. They were very dark, almost black and regarded her with a cool amusement. He was a very handsome, all hard angles like her brother. His full lips were drawn back, revealing his teeth in a loose smirk.

"No, I am afraid I just wondered into the wrong room."

"Ah, I see. What is it that has your little mind in such a commotion?" His eyes roamed up and down her body, making Clary shiver. He grinned at this.

She wasn't sure why but she felt like telling this strange boy in front of her the truth.

"I am heading off to be married to a man I hardly know." He seemed taken aback by her bluntness, straightening his shoulders and reaching his full height. He was very tall as it was; an entire foot taller than Clary.

"That is news worthy of a deep thought indeed. A distraction might be in order."

"A distraction?" He smiled and took a step closer to her. She _should_ have felt afraid, but for that very reason she wasn't. She was tired of doing what she should

"I have always been a firm believer that before one is married, one should always kiss at least one other person…to help calm down the busy thoughts flitting through the mind." His dark hair fell in his eyes as he bent his face close to hers.

"Is that so-" Before she could finish her sentence, Clary found a pair of lips held firmly over her own. Instead of pushing away, she held him closer. He was surprisingly gentle despite his size. Brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones he lifted her down onto the pillows, trailing one hand down her neck to her shoulder, gripping her tightly. She slid her hands up his chest to grip the back of his head and hold him firmly in place as her mouth moved in sync with his. Though she enjoyed the proximity of his body, she didn't feel anything in her heart.

Eventually they pulled away and he grinned lazily at her. "Do you make a habit of kissing married women?" She asked

"Your aren't married yet," he pointed out, blowing a loose curl away from her face, "Though for you, I might make an exception." He gently sat up and placed her on her feet, steadying her before releasing her completely.

"I'm _Raz."_

"Clary" She responded as he smirked triumphantly once more.

"Well Clary, I would hope to do this again sometime, unfortunately it sounds as though someone already has a claim to you."

No sooner had the word left his mouth, Clary heard Isabelle's distant call. She turned without murmuring a goodbye and went off in search of her new friend. Her thoughts did feel organized. _Perhaps he was right. This was what I needed. _She retreated into the maze of clothing, all the while feeling his eyes on the back of her neck.

**SOOOO… You ****will ****meet Jace in the next two chapters; do not fear my lovelies. I will warn you that he is going to be a super ass for a while. I felt bad for dragging out this story for so long that I gave you this little kiss, It will be important later though, so keep it in mind. Yes, Raz will come back. I didn't want for this story to be another sappy romance which is why I tries to focus on Clary and isabelle for a bit. I also had a lot of fun creating this whole new world soooo… Don't hate me too much.**

**As always I hope you review, however I wont be mean and set a minimum review number until the next update…for now hahahahahahaaaaaa.**


	4. The Spine

**Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated in a little while. I am going to post pictures on my profile of the landscapes I am describing if you want to check those out. Other than that, I hope you enjoy and REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! Also I hope you check out my other two fics, not gonna be mad if you don't though. Bye lovelies!**

The Spine-

Clary quickly wove her way through the towering racks of clothing in the store. She didn't remember the way back to the entrance in exact though she knew the general direction in which she had come. She could hear Isabelle's voice far off in the distance, calling her name, though she couldn't pinpoint its exact location. Taking a sudden turn, Clary heard her name much more clearly. _Finally_, she thought, _I've found my way._

As she emerged from the colorful fabric emporium, Her eyes instantly zeroed on her new friend. Isabelle had a frantic look in her eyes as she haphazardly darted around the crowd.

"Isabelle!" Clary cried out to gain the girls attention.

"Clary, thank god! I thought I'd lost you in this vacuum of beasts." Her statements garnered her a few harsh looks, but no one cried out in protest.

"I am truly sorry Isabelle, I was seduced by the finery of this particular fabric store and managed to get lost…I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Oh that's fine, I too have fallen claim to many a clothing store." She paused, "Now, let us head back to the inn and meet Magnus. I told him we would be there twenty minutes ago!" She chuckled lightly before grasping Clary's hand and dragging her once more into the throngs of people.

As the girls ran, Clary had little to no time to take in her surroundings. This thought saddened her, as she would forever be curious about this new world; she was sure of it. As they traveled onward, Clary's bright green eyes snapped to the small collection of huts labeled, "The Grove Inn". She assumed that this was where they were headed due to the thoroughly annoyed Magnus Bane that stood outside, leaning against a doorframe. Some sort of pipe puffed between his lips as a cloud of immensely thick smoke erupted from its spout, occasionally forming what Clary thought was images of thundering horses and inhuman men, descending into the air.

"My God woman, where have you been?" He quipped as Isabelle stopped in front of him. The movement was so sudden that she nearly collided into the taller girl, but somehow managed to steady herself.

"We lost track of time Magnus, Clary has never seen anything like this and I wanted to make sure she could enjoy herself as much as possible." Clary giggled slightly at her tone of voice. Isabelle was making a point not to apologize. In response Magnus made a small noise, much like a growl, and turned, only to stalk into the closest hut. Isabelle followed closely behind and gestured for Clary to follow.

The walls of the hut were a deep burgundy wallpaper with indentations depicting a stormy mountain range. The far wall was made entirely of stone as a small fireplace blazed from within. Two twin beds sat against the wall, sporting cozy brown sheets and a white comforter. Clary sighed sadly, this place felt more inviting then her home ever had. Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt a cool hand on her forearm.

"Clary come here." Magnus gestured to one of the wooden chairs beside the fire. Quietly she complied, settling herself in the unoccupied seat. A she did so, the mans hands flitted to her palm, gently undoing the bindings there. As soon as it was off, Magnus removed a small vile from his pocket. The thin bottle contained a milky blue potion of some sort that swished with every movement. Magnus began to tilt the opened lid of the potion towards Clary's hand, who gasped a pulled back, eyes ablaze with something that looked like fear. On more than one occasion, her father had tested strange liquids on her skin, watching with unflinching eyes as she was burned.

"Clary," Magnus scolded sternly, "let me help you. I can see that your hand pains you while we ride; let me heal you."

"Oh, Magnus- I…what is it?"

"This simply contains some basic soothing ingredients. Normal things like honey and aloe, but also magical concoctions like root of the midnight flower and fairy tears." Seeing the look on her face, he continued, "These are all ingredients meant to help you, not harm you. Do you really think I would willingly bring harm to my king's future wife?" Clary shook her head, already feeling calmed and slightly embarrassed form her fear.

"No, I wouldn't. Now then, these ingredients were all expensive, as burns are very tricky. Be grateful little one. This won't heal you in full, but it should provide a modicum of relief." With that, Magnus tipped the contents of the bottle onto Clary's skin, smiling slightly at the relieved gasp that escaped her small, red mouth.

"Get your rest child, tomorrow and the coming days will be long and hard."

Clary settled on the bed, watching as Magnus retreated through the door. After she heard the light click, she turned to Isabelle. The raven-haired girl wore a slight frown with a lightly wrinkled forehead, as though she was deep in thought about something.

"Isabelle?" The girl shook her head, blinking several times before glancing up and smiling.

"Yes Clary."

"Who are those other guards traveling with us? I've never seen their faces or heard them speak."

"They are called the silent brothers. They were the original keepers Pandemonium, before the war started. The City of Bones was their capital, a sort of religious sect dedicated to knowledge and wisdom. Their power was of the mind, not the body, as was the way of the magic of the land. The magic however, was too strong, warping their faces and inhibiting the ability to speak. "

"Why was it called the City of Bones? It seems too dark for a group of non-violent priests."

Isabelle smiled slightly at something before responding; "The city was given its name from the bodies buried there. Whenever someone died in battle, peasant or noble, no matter what race, they would be sent there. Even in death, the bodies of a warrior hold great strength against evil." She looked down, "There is much you have to learn about this country, I will save some for a proper tutor. Then all your questions will be answered." With that, Isabelle turned over on her side, blowing out her candle. Clary watched the dancing of the shadows at the mercy of the fireplace for a while. There were so many questions she had. Admittedly most of them had to do with the mysterious Jace, _How could a murderer choose a wife? Much less me. How could he know what I look like?_

These thoughts continued to dance through her head as she drifted off into a deep and healing sleep.

The following day, the group wasted no time, rising at the crack of dawn and gathering their supplies. After washing her face with the warm water provided by the inn, Clary changed her dress to something that Isabelle had given her. Thankful to slip out of the corset altogether, Clary examined her knew look. A brow leather vest adorned her chest over a cream, loose, long sleeve tunic, reaching to her knees with woven flowers on the tips of the sleeves. The vest descended to her knees, splitting to reveal brown leggings and her own riding boots. This was something that her father would have deemed "whorish" and given her a beating, had he seen her wearing it. _But Father isn't here, is he?_ Clary thought with a smile. This fashion of clothing suited Clary far more than any gowns ever would. She could move and stretch unhindered, ride more comfortably and more importantly, breathe without trouble. It was at this moment that Clary felt free. As of now, her father officially had no power over her. She no longer had to wear what he chose, and could experience the world in a new light. She felt like a person!

Not long after, Clary and Isabelle sat at a small table outside, drinking warm mint tea and eating some sort of bread. Isabelle had explained to her that the people of Calinome generally didn't eat meat, and instead made up for it by working nuts and seeds into various baked goods.

"One piece of this stuff is said to hold all of the most important nutrients to get you through the day until lunch!" Isabelle exclaimed.

"Why am I still hungry then?"

"Oh hush you, have some fruit and then we will be off." Isabelle also looked famished, but maintained that she was perfectly content.

After the group had finished their breakfasts, they gathered at the edge of the market town, checking to make sure that they possessed all of the necessary supplies to make the remainder of their journey. Apparently if they rode fast and hard, they could make it to the border of Pandemonium in four days. According to Magnus, they had brought the silent brothers along, not for protection, but so that they cold navigate the dark country with ease, as they knew the lay of the land. With that, the group struck off into the mysterious forest, thundering into the greenery. Despite all the time she had spent on Wayfarer, it still amazed her how a simple enchantment could allow an animal to run for days on end without tire.

They had been riding for several hours now, and the scenery had yet to change much. She took in her surroundings, from the deep green of the mossy floor to the matching leaves and dark wood, the forest was finally becoming somewhat boring to Clary. Every now and again, a boulder or stream would break up the landscape, one more peaking Clary's interest, only to fade in a matter of minutes. The horse hooves left deep gouges in the damp floor, a constant drizzle seemed to add to this. Throughout the ride, Clary had found it strange that no animals had been seen, excluding several birdcalls far off in the distance. When she had asked about it, Magnus had responded that the market was the closest town to the border of Pandemonium. The magic is so strong that it wards off animals, and keeps the country residents at bay. No one wanted to get too close to the darkened landscape.

Even more unsettling was the feeling that they were being watched. Ever since she and Isabelle had left the market, she couldn't shake the feeling of a target, formed by someone's eyes, burning between at the base of her neck. At first, she had shaken it off as nervousness from the proximity to Pandemonium. Even still, Clary started at every snap of a twig or foreign sound. No one else seemed to take notice of her worry; as they were all somewhat on edge.

Instead of focusing on this, she instead tried to take in the fresh air. Her hair and clothing were thoroughly dampened by now, leaving the fabric somewhat itchy against her skin. Clary shifted I her seat and pulled the hood of her cloak closer to her face, she glanced around the trees once more and noted the approaching fog that seemed to have settled now.

The group continued like this for many hours, and al the while, not a single one noted the pair of hungry black eyes that watched them from afar.

It had been roughly three and a half days since Clary, Isabelle, Magnus and the un-named brothers had departed the Nomian Market. Three and a half days of eating that dreadful bread and of sleeping on the squishy ground. Every single person, even the silent three, was clearly uneasy at entering Pandemonium. Somehow, despite all their best efforts, they had made record time and would arrive within the hour. It had always been quiet before, but no one dared to speak snow. The landscape had changed quite a bit. The trees, though just as thick and dense, had lost much of their original color and instead opted for brittle, dying, thorn-like leaves. The ground, though still muddy, had been covered with a layer of tree debris, adding a harsh crunch to each step. He fog seemed to have remained, hiding the sky form view. As they got closer to the border, a bitter cold had set in, somehow adding certain dryness to the misting air. The horses had slowed there pace, prolonging the time to reach their destination. No one seemed to complain about this decision.

Clary looked ahead, seeing a clearing and the edge of a cliff. Without tree branches constricting her view, she could see the dark grey, almost black, clouds that covered the sky. It was so dark that it could have been night had Clary not known better. She could see why nothing, human or not, would shy away from this place. At the base of the ridge, lay a ghastly sight. If she had thought that this forest was dead, she found herself thoroughly mistaken. "The Spine", Magnus called, no hissed, it. Clary found it a fitting name for the collection of broken, grey, daggers that jutted from the ground. Far off in the distance, lay a jagged mountain range, no doubt as treacherous as it looked. Aside from that, the land was a barren waste. A thick fog decorated the landscape, occasionally sliced through with a boulder or broken tree. She could see no towns or signs of life anywhere, despite the immense piece of space.

"Does anyone live here at all?" She asked timidly, attempting to hide the fear in her voice.

"No, not here. The City of Bones lies over the Perdition Mountains. We assume that the inhabitants of this country remain close tot heir king, though no one has really stayed to look." Clary noted how Magnus didn't refer to the citizens as people. _How could the survive this place and still hold a thread of humanity_, she thought.

From there, the group descended a narrow path in single file, taking care not to stumble and go flying over the edge. Once on the ground, the horses began to shift anxiously, as though sensing something unfriendly close by. Taking this into account, Magnus said, "I think it would be best not to linger. We shall ride hard through the remainder of the day and on through the night. If we are lucky, we can escape this place by the early morning."

Instead of responding, two of the brothers took off in the lead with Isabelle and Clary not far behind. Magnus followed while the other brother rode a little to the side of them, keeping a watch for unwanted guests. They rode faster than before, so fast that she could now feel and hear her horse beginning to tire. Despite Wayfarer's obvious discomfort, he didn't seem to mind the pace, as he was just as focused on leaving the dead soil behind. Each person glanced around suspiciously, watching the fog from the corner of his or her eyes. Strange chirps, creaks and croaks could be heard resonating from the unknown. Even more unsettling were the strange shrieks and roars that could only come from something far larger and more feral. As the passed by a pond, the horses took a brief rest and drank from its stream. Magnus had determined that the water was not poison, but still watched the surface with a guarded expression. After this slight break, they trotted for some time. As the pond faded into nothingness, Clary turned around; only to glimpse the bony back of some scaled creature slip into the dark, damp depths once more. She shivered, but found solace in the knowledge that they wouldn't return.

Though it always seemed like night here, Clary learned the true meaning of dark when the sun set. Magnus was forced to unhappily light several lanterns to provide sight to the riders.

"It may draw attention to us, but the quicker we leave, the better" He declared. Though Clary was exhausted, she knew that she wouldn't have slept here regardless. There were too many things that would haunt her dreams to even try to rest. Instead she simply wrapped he cloak tighter, settling for an occasional nap in the saddle to retain strength. It was like this that they managed to ride through the night.

Clary was startled from her awkward sleep by the caw of a bird. She glanced around uneasily as her eyes focused, finding her target. Directly above their path, there flew an immense black raven. It reminded her of the one called Hugo that once perched upon her father shoulder. She had hated that bird. It always seemed to watch her, somehow communicating with her father if she had done anything wrong. On more than one occasion, Hugo was the cause and infliction of her pain. Clary remembered climbing out her window to draw a gold canary when she was only eleven. Hugo had seen her and reported back to her father, earning her cheek a bright red slash from his claws. Not only that, but upon her memory, Clary couldn't help but wonder if her father had used some sort of magic after all.

"Spies of the damned, they're called." Magnus commented

"What?" Clary's voice was startled.

"The ravens," he gestured, "they send information back to the bones city. Sneaky bastards."

"Do they know we are here?"

"This is the first I have seen, by the time it relays its information, we shall be long gone…Thankfully."

This perked Clary's hope, "Are we really that close?"

"Yes, it shouldn't be long now. Already you can see the changes in the landscape."

It was true. The trees held more strength and occasionally sported a few golden leaves. Along with that, the soil looked healthier and several plants managed to grow.

"Idris really is beautiful Clary. You are going to love it." Isabelle had ridden up beside her now.

"What is it like?"

"It's indescribable, you'll have to wait and see!"

That was the last that was said for quite a while. Clary looked ahead through the clearing fog and noted that they were at the base of the mountains. There appeared to be some sort of valley, cutting the mountains in half. As the neared the valley, Clary got a good look at what was past the veil of darkness that encompassed Pandemonium. A light seemed to emanate from it. Beautiful trees with white and pale brown trunks sprouted irregularly from the ground, holding up pale green and gold leaves. The bark made strange swirling patterns, like symbols, that reached to the heavens. What drew her eye the most, was were two particular trees at the far end of the valley. They held leaves the color of fire and were so impossibly entwined that they could not have grown naturally. They formed a sort of archway, leading the way from the terrible country called Pandemonium.

"The Ithrian Arches" Isabelle stated with a smile. "Welcome to your new home Clary!"

They had been in Idris for two days and Clary already felt much healthier. She hadn't realized it at the time, but the magic of Pandemonium had drained much of her strength. Now she was up and running, attempting to experience each new thing in the country. _Her_ country. Magnus and Isabelle had jokingly started calling her spitfire from all of excess energy. Everything here was just so new and beautiful. While the trees of the Spine had seemed to absorb light, the trees of the Razen Mountains emitted it. Everything was lushly colored; there were all different shades of green, blue, red, and brown. From the pearly colored cliffs to the bright flowers, everything spoke the language of vitality.

"How can this Jace be such a famous killer if the magic of his country is so beautiful and vibrant?"

"Do not be fooled little one. Angels may seem friendly, but they hide a much more sinister and ruthless anger. He is cruel and harsh, but with time can be kind."

This news made Clary's heart fall ever so slightly. She didn't want to be stuck with a man like her father. She couldn't condone the birth of a child into that sort of environment.

These thoughts were startled from her head as Magnus announced that they had arrived at the Guard, her new home. More eager than ever, Clary rode to the top of the hill where Magnus was perched and surveyed the breathtaking view. The rolling green hills ended abruptly at a cliff, shooting off into nothingness. On the other side of the gorge lay a collection of warmly colored stone towers, built into the steep Cliffside above a waterfall. Directly behind the Guard lay the highest, coldest, and steepest mountains that Clary had ever laid eyes on. Birds flitted through the air carelessly, completely ignorant of the awestruck young girl, quacking in her saddle.

**Don't hate me, The next chapter is called Jace. You know what that means…**


	5. A Difficult Engagement

A Difficult Engagement-

For a moment, Clary took in the view, unable to move. The trees, the glimmering mountains, the soaring cliffs, and the thundering water…it was almost too much for her to believe possible. Signs of vitality proved a welcome sight from the days spent in the barren forests of the dark lands. Despite this, Clary could sense something looming over the land. She had yet to meet any people and therefore could not decide what kind of leader her husband to be was. Pushing these thoughts aside, she continued examining the land. The girl could clearly see a flock of birds above the ivory castle, not a care in the world as they glided in the wind and through the light scattering of mist. She had always wished she could fly. As an afterthought, Clary wondered how her group would cross the gorge to reach the other side.

_In a place like this, anything can be possible_.

"Come now Clary, Jace wanted to see you as soon as he could. I've never seen him as anxious as he was to meet you and he is usually in a sour mood. News that you arrived, only to stand openmouthed across Golden Gorge, will only frustrate him further. Without waiting for a response, Magnus thundered into a nearby cave that she had not noticed earlier. Something gave her the idea that there was another reason for his urgency, though there was no time to ask. Isabelle passed her quickly, calling for Clary to keep up. Without hesitation, she complied, sending loud echoes through the cave with each strike of Wayfarer's hooves. She soon discovered that the cave was very manmade, outfitted with torches every twenty meters or so. The only other light sources were the small windows placed along the wall, revealing more of the view and spilling flowers outside. The ground was tilted in a downward slope, leading toward the base of the gorge. Her companions had disappeared into the tunnel, leaving an unsure Clary behind. The silent brothers had disappeared to a separate tunnel, going to what Clary assumed was their makeshift temple. As she neared the bottom, she saw Magnus and Isabelle waiting impatiently for a drawbridge to be lowered.

"Where are you two headed to in such a hurry?"

"Sorry Clary, until now I hadn't realized how much I wanted to see my family and Simon." Isabelle said, her eyes wild with excitement.

"Who's Sim-" Before she could finish her question, the bridge was fully lowered and the two once more took off without so much as a glance back at her. Sighing once more, she kicked Wayfarer in the side gently, urging him to keep up. He did more than just that, pounding hard into the ground; he managed to surpass both the Warlock and the warrior, earning surprised grunts from both. _It seems you are also excited to be home, _she thought with a grin.

The bridge led her to a winding pathway, lined by heavy cliff walls on either side. The ground had turned to cobblestone, interwoven with moss and small flowers of all different colors. She slowed their pace somewhat, hoping to avoid an accident on the uneven ground. Wayfarer paid no attention to her urgings, pressing faster into the ground. Not long after, the horse all but tumbled into an open courtyard, overflowing with flowers and streams, followed by a disgruntled Magnus and Isabelle. Without a word the two dismounted, leaving their horses, Chairman and Church behind. They both walked with such purpose that Clary felt she shouldn't follow, and instead opted to wait a while.

She wasn't kept long as several servants arrived, bustling about bringing her to their master.

"Come now my lady, best to hurry. Lord Jace has waited ever so patiently for your arrival. He wants to see you in the library." Their hands pulled her from the saddle non-too gently, nearly forcing her to the ground. They seemed to ignore this rudeness as they hustled her through the gates to what Clary felt would be a very interesting meeting. As they walked, Clary tried to take in her surroundings, but failed due to the various hands that flitted about her, cleansing dirt and smoothing hair.

"You must look as presentable as possible now, no need to disappoint him." _Disappoint him? He has chosen me, he would have no reason to be upset with my looks. Even more so after dragging me through several countries, not all of them pleasant, and with very little rest or clean up time._ She was preparing to voice her protests to these statements when she was pulled up short. Clary now stood in front of a set of grand oak doors. Each door was fashioned with half of one intricate carving, depicting an angel rising from a lake. In his hands were a sword and a cup, each embellished with gems of a sort. Even more interesting were his eyes, faceted with opals, making him look as though he were glowing. Suddenly she was released from the grasp of the servants as one of them stepped forward, gently tapping on the door. No sooner had this happened then Clary found herself utterly alone in the bright, marble hallway.

"Enter!" A voice boomed from the other side of the doorway.

Clary, unsure of herself, pressed her hand against the wood, feeling the edges of each carving as she did so. The door was far heavier than she originally thought and required much more effort. The doors opened with a loud creek, alerting whoever was inside to her presence. Clary felt a small intake of breath course through her as she registered her surroundings. Towering oak shelves adorned the walls, reaching to the ceiling. Windows spread up the heights, illuminating the spiral staircase that led to the upper floors and lending an unearthly gleam to the marble. In the center of the room lay a desk as beautiful as the doors with a red velvet chair behind it. By far the most beautiful thing in the room was that of the man that stood behind it.

Time seemed to stretch on for ages as the two people regarded the other. He at a proud 6ft 4 or so, looking down at Clary with a cool amusement and mild curiosity. His golden eyes drilled holes straight through Clary, seemingly ripping all her secrets from her ribcage. Black eyelashes rested above his irises, casting shadows along his sharp cheekbones. His lips were pressed together tightly, hiding some of their fullness from her gaze. Everything about him was gold, he was a perfect replica of one of the statues that once decorated her fathers garden making Clary wonder if he had once been a model for artists. Clary knew that she must look ridiculous to him. Her hair was thankfully pulled back into a braid, though her wild red locks had even managed to escape that binding. She found herself glad at the servants for wiping the dust from her face, allowing her pale skin to show through. Her lips were slightly parted at the sight of him, though she shut them quickly to avoid looking a fool. This was not what she had expected. Since she had heard the first stories or the man that fought with the power and grace of a lion, she had pictured a man hardened by war. A man considerably older whose hair ran freely, though she supposed it did, and was covered in scars. She thought he would be heinously ugly with a twisted smile. This man, however, was unreal. Clary couldn't help but note that there was something else there, hidden behind the layers of flesh and blood. Something that made him more human than she could possibly understand.

"I trust your ride went smoothly Clarissa." His voice was smooth like running water as he lowered his head in a sign of respect. The low tones of his singsong voice felt like warm honey dripping down her throat in the middle of a Pandemonium winter. It held a certain spice to it that made her think he was born in another country.

"I suppose it was…my lord Jonathan" Clary was glad that she had managed to keep her voice from trembling. This thought snapped her back into reality with a cold bite. She was reminded of her anger and confusion of the whole situation and refused to bow in return. "…If you could call it that."

She could see on his face that he hadn't expected her to be so bitter.

"Jace." He corrected, "It is respectful in most countries to acknowledge your superiors, usually with a bow." He suggested with mockery, thinking she was too surprised by his looks.

"I am quite aware of the customs, I simply choose not to partake in them, as you have yet to earn my respect." A flash of anger crossed his face as he stepped forward, his fingers twitching as though he meant to grab at her. Thankfully he restrained himself and instead opted for a question.

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know about you, but I don't particularly enjoy being dragged across a nation at war to marry a foreign warlord, of whom I have only heard stories. Do you think _you_ would have fun on said journey?" She mimicked his tone, but it was clouded by the coldness of her razor-like eyes.

"I can't say I have experienced anything like that. Because of this I humbly choose to keep my opinion to myself for the time being." He simply stared at her for a moment before she could no longer take it.

"Not to interrupt your _deeply _important thoughts, but is there a reason for my being here?"

A slow smirk spread across his face, "Be more specific love. Do you mean here as in the universe, castle or room?"

"Do not call me love, you haven't been given that right yet." She snapped, "Do not test me, you know exactly what I mean. Is there a reason you wanted to see me in this room, or can I simply go?"

"You wouldn't want to meet your future husband? No sane person would want to give up an opportunity to be in my presence. Though I must agree, this room really isn't the best. In my opinion, the master bedroom would have been a considerably better choice."

Clary rolled her eyes at this, "Of course; nothing like a classic bedroom joke to warm a woman's spirits. If you even had a modicum of intelligence under that golden mop of curls, you would think twice before speaking. I didn't choose this, this marriage was forced upon me. So yes, I would rather that I didn't ever have to meet you" She smiled before continuing, "Besides, I never claimed to be sane."

"You think you're so clever? Might I remind you that you are in fact speaking to a warlord who as of now owns you."

Though she knew she shouldn't press the issue, she continued speaking freely. _Best to see what sort of man he is._

"I prefer my freedom to chains. You will never have my support as long as I _belong_ to you"

"Ho now! I like to think that in releasing you from your father, I also freed you. He wasn't a particularly kind man was he?" His face creased as if deep in thought "And please, if you could refrain from insulting my hair, it would be appreciated ever so much."

"You empowered me?" Clary was outrage by this sentiment, "You said so yourself, when you paid for me. Simultaneously, though accidental, you provided me with a taste of what freedom feels like and I don't intend to give it up so easily. Even more so in place of submission to an obnoxious bigot, such as yourself." Clary made a grand sweeping gesture at Jace before turning and storming out.

"I'll call you whatever I like _little dove_!" He called after her, the possessive nature in his voice making her shiver. She was actually surprised that he let her go so easily. Clary had expected more of a fight from him. _None of this is what you expected, _she reminded herself.

Before the doors slammed shut, she thought she heard a mumbled, "that went well", but never turned to find out.

After the ordeal in the library, a maid called Tamara showed Clary to her room. Tamara was a pretty olive skinned girl with pale brown hair and eyes, she seemed around Clary's age and met her with a smile. Clary liked the girl almost immediately. They wound past several garden areas, all stocked full of flowers and fountains, and many large rooms; ranging from sitting areas, to dinning, to recreation. Everything about this place seemed so light, making it all the more beautiful. It wasn't as though she wasn't used to such finery, it was that the Guard was more suited to her taste. In place of candelabras and chandeliers, this place relied on natural light, making it seem more welcoming. The stone and surrounding areas were not dark, but instead glowing with life. Everything was more open here; she didn't feel caged.

After what seemed like ages, Tamara turned and headed for a wide spiral staircase that lead up to a garden. The two girls made their way through the plants, humming with bees and other wildlife. As they walked, Clary trailed her fingers through the plants, catching them on tangled vines and cleansing them on the surface of a fountain. Clary could tell by the wild and somewhat haphazard growth, that this particular garden was less maintained, allowing for its full and un-manicured appearance. Though the cobblestone path had grown bumpy with moss, it still managed to hold the illusion of order, winding it's way through the miniature forest. A slight rustle caught Clary's eye. Turning to face it, a small white dove flitted onto one of the branches near Clary's head. She let out a light laugh and fed it a small piece of bread that Tamara had given her. The bird nipped at it delicately, as though testing for a trick, before snatching it up and flying away. Clary's smile faded slowly, though brightness remained in her eye.

"Come now my lady, after such a long ride you must be anxious to bathe and eat a proper meal. It is important that you rest and save your energy. I am sure that his lordship will forgive your briskness, as it was caused by exhaustion."

_His lordship will learn better much too soon _Clary thought with a mischievous grin. Her father had always told her that one of her largest flaws was that of her stubbornness. "It will get you killed some day child" He had once said. Clary had always tried to suppress this particular trait, though it usually shone through and come back stronger than ever during her journey with Magnus and Isabelle. Thinking about the riding companions that she now considered her friends, she wondered where they were. _Why did they leave in such a hurry?_

_"_I have already taken the liberty of having a rosewater bath drawn for you… I trust that is alright?"

"Yes Tamara, it is more than alright." She gave the girl and encouraging smile. The maid in return bowed her head and gestured to the building she had stopped in front of.

"I was told to leave you to yourself, ring the bell if you need anything.

After dismissing the girl, Clary turned to study the small turreted building in front of her. It was only small in comparison to the other buildings, though what it lacked in size, it more than made up for in beauty. The pale caramel bricks reflected the sunlight lightly, making the round building shine ever so slightly. White detailing littered the stone underneath each window and around each door. A narrow set of stairs lead up to the wooden door, surrounded by red peonies. As she approached, she earned a view of a small pool on the other side of the building, as well as a private patio. Pushing the door aside, she stepped into what she assumed would be her accommodations for the time being. The two-story building was roofed in a glass dome, allowing an incredible display of light across the floor. An ivory staircase led up to another room, situated where it would not disrupt that natural light. The entire ground floor was open, sporting a large white sitting room and dinning room, separated only by a row of plants.

Instead of exploring her quarters in great detail like she anted, Clary instead headed for the stairs hoping to find what she assumed would be her bedroom. When she reached the second floor, she gingerly stepped into a large room with white wooden paneling. There was intricate crown molding along each wall, keeping it from being too boring and instead allowing more light to reflect through. A large mahogany bed was placed in the center of the room, covered in a thick white comforter. The far wall seemed nonexistent, as it opened up onto a terrace complete with a glass table and awning. _These people really don't understand color _she thought with a smile. Clary then caught sight of the room she was looking for all along: the bathroom!

As soon as Clary's feet hit the cool stone floor, she stripped off her grimy clothing, throwing the remains of them in the wash bin. Without sparing a glance at her surroundings, she stepped into the piping hot bathwater, reveling in the scent as it washed over her. Clary simply stood there for what seemed like hours, occasionally floating around a bit while scrubbing at her skin until clean. Even after the dirt was removed, she remained. It had been too long since her last real bath, aside form soaking in a river with Isabelle. She wanted to feel raw, fresh and anew with roses.

As she basked in the much-needed glory of heated water and bubbles, Clary took note of the bathroom. It was all a pale shade of marble, disrupted only by an occasional cloud of grey. The tub she was in was square and could easily fit four people, though she couldn't imagine a scenario where this was necessary. _Not a proper situation that is, _she thought with a deep pink blush and giggle. A set of two sinks lined the far wall with an equally large mirror. _It would make sense that two there are two sinks, this house is certainly large enough for more._ Sighing once more, Clary finally removed herself from the now considerably cooler bath waters, running her hands through her hair as she did. Once Clary was firmly wrapped in a fluffy robe, she entered the bedroom in search of a change of clothing. Her quest was fulfilled when she chanced upon a rather large wardrobe full of dresses and even some trousers. Isabelle told her that women were only allowed to wear these pieces when partaking in rigorous activities. Keeping this in mind, Clary opted for a pale green dress with a light dusting of rose embroidery along the sleeves and bodice.

Once dressed, she decided to explore the area around her living quarters, as she did not feel she possessed the energy to get lost quite yet. Clary began in the garden, allowing the fresh citrus scent of the trees wash over her like an erratic tidal wave. Light wove through the foliage, creating intricate displays of light across the ground. Clary frowned at the sound of running water and wove her way through he garden until reaching the source. It was a beautiful shaded fountain that led directly into one of the many streams. White stone warriors battled with various creatures for the heart of an ivory maiden, who sat overlooking the ordeal. Swords and other unknown weapons clashed in slow motion, and barbed tongues darted out like eels, poisoning the victims. Though it was lovely and calming by all accounts, Clary found it rather unsettling. _Perhaps it is the life like features of the creation,_ she thought. Turning away from her discomfort, Clary began wandering once more.

Clary twined herself through the various plant life as though she herself was a vine. Because of her size, she was able to slip through even the smallest of spaces, allowing her to see the garden from all angles. As she walked, breathing in the light air, she heard voices. The girl peaked through a slight opening in the branches of a nearby plant only to see Jace strolling leisurely and commanding a servant to summon a military leader of some sort. She decided to take this opportunity to really study the man. The light bounced off of his gold hair, reflecting it like glass. His skin held more bronze undertones, adding to the depth of the shadows cast under his cheekbones. He, like her brother, was mostly hard angles and toned muscle. He had the body of a fighter, she could tell. As she walked unnoticed alongside him, she was able to pick up on the pale white scars that marred his perfection making her wonder what had caused them. _He is a fighter; they are probably just battle scars that have since healed. _Clary felt a fool for forgetting this.

Clary had been so focused on Jace that she had forgotten to watch where she was going. A loud snap sounded from beneath her feet where she had stepped on a large branch. Jace's head popped up as he craned his neck around for the source of the startling occurrence. His caramel eyes settled on hers and for a moment seemed to relax as a light smile tugged on his lips. As quickly as the look had crossed his face, it was replaced with an obnoxious smirk.

"Hello little wife!" He jeered, knowing she would hate the name. "Couldn't keep away could you? I cannot say I blame you, you are not the first to fall for my charms."

"I liked it better when you weren't speaking." Clary turned around and began heading back to her room. She was stopped when a large hand clamped down on her hip, spinning her around. Clary returned the smirk, "Looks like someone is a little desperate."

"I am not desperate, I have other women for that."

"You clearly aren't very good at wooing."

"No, I am simply not used to dealing with such cold hearted beasts as you." His grip tightened on her. Clary ignored her discomfort.

"Oh I'm the cold hearted one? Forgive me my lord, I am not used to slaughtering innocent people for the spread of my power."

She regretted the words immediately as a cruel look crossed his face. She couldn't help but compare him to Jonathan right before he lashed out. Instinctively, Clary shrank back, garnering a tight smile from him.

"If you knew what was good for you would hold your tongue…or would you prefer I do that for you?" He snapped his teeth predatorily

"Lucky for me that I do not possess an abundance of self preservation"

"Just wait love, if you think I'm cruel now you have no idea what is coming for you." This time, it was Jace that spun on his heal, leaving a wide eyed Clary staring after him. She did not linger long, deciding that it would be a better idea to explore her own quarters.

After returning to her rooms, Clary was overcome with an enormous amount of exhaustion. Both the journey and her interactions with Jace had proven to require far more energy than she now possessed. She reached her bed, and instead of removing her dress, she simply laid down and fell into a deep sleep. This moment of peace did not last long, as she was awoken by the loud howl of a wolf. After that point, her sleep was long and fitful, never allowing her to doze for more than a few minutes to an hour.

The morning came, ushering in a pale grey light. Clary could sense a storm coming, much like the day she received news of her engagement. This in turn brought up memories of Jace's threat the previous day, earning a low groan from Clary. _Of course, I had to lose control of my thoughts once again. Now something horrible is going to happen and it is all my fault._ Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of light footsteps along the floors outside her room. The door was pushed aside gently to reveal a young girl, eyes downcast and hands clasped in front. She looked somewhat shocked to see Clary awake.

"My lady." She greeted.

"Yes, what is it?" Clary snapped impatiently. She regretted it when the girl winced, though she never apologized. _I hate getting this little sleep, especially after so long._

"The lord of this house requests your presence in the main hall immediately. I-I was told to retrieve you." She stuttered slightly, raising her eyes to meet Clary's own. Clary sighed and pushed the covers back. She wanted to stretch all her limbs like she usually did, though she had no desire to anger Jace more.

"Come now, help me dress."

The girl complied and began readying a dress of a rich plum color. Clary did not take much notice of how she looked, though she did note that this dress was tight around her chest and feel loosely past her waist. She remembered Amatis, her old maid, telling her of this fashion. It was called an _empire waist_ or something along those lines.

The maid pulled Clary along, ignoring her complaints of hunger. Apparently her authority had been dulled based on her interactions with Jace. She soon found herself traveling through the same set of halls that she had the previous day when meeting Jace. She recognized the angelic library doors and several of the spiral staircases. As they neared the end of the all, it widened considerably into a large glass domed room, holding a massive set of arched doors. Behind the doors came the boom of loud voices. No. It was just one voice… and it belonged to Jace.

As she entered, Clary took the room in all at once. The milky marble seemed to take on a more sinister side as she realized that this was where Jace passed judgment on his subjects.

"Clary, I see the great sleeping beauty has decided to grace us with her presence."

Ignoring his jibe, Clary responded "What is you wanted to see me for?"

"Well, you are going to be my bride. I thought it fitting that you witness how we run things." Jace gestured to a man that was currently being dragged out by several guards. She had no idea what crime he had committed, though it had to have been fairly severe based on his tormented screams and pleas of forgiveness. As she took in her surroundings, she also took note of the people in the room. Many of them were cold-faced men, all of which seemed to scrutinize her with both hunger and anger. Their gazes left Clary feeling naked with bloody snakes and spiders crawling under her skin, attempting to get out from a damp prison cell. As she looked around, she spotted a man with blue eyes and dark hair. She supposed that he was handsome, though he didn't pay her any mind. Deciding that he didn't seem to be too bad, she chose to stand near him in place of the others.

"Clarissa I presume." The dark haired man greeted.

"Yes… and you are?"

"Alec Lightwood." He replied coolly, turning back to face the center of the room.

"Lightwood? Are you and Isabelle related by any chance?"

"She is my sister."

Clary would have persisted, though he didn't seem to like her very much and instead opted for watching the hearings.

To put it mildly, Jace did indeed live up to his bloody reputation.

Clary watched on in horror as he sentenced man after man, woman after woman, to extreme punishments for almost nothing. A man of nineteen had stolen bread from a vendor to feed his sister; Jace sent him for 4 demon metal lashes. A woman that refused to bow in the presence of a cruel general was to be imprisoned for months with minimal food and daily beatings. Clary had tried to step forward and make Jace see reason, though each time a grim faced Alec held her back. He told her that if she challenged him, in front of his men no less, her punishment would be far more severe. This treatment brought back memories of her own torture at the hands of her family. Clary remained silent, shrunken back into the corner like the scared little mouse that she had always been. That was until she could take no more.

A man was dragged in. He had been convicted of steeling 12 grapes from a vendor. He was to have 4 fingers removed. The accuser had been in and out of the room all day, condemning seven other people for crimes of the same size. She hated the malicious glint in his eyes. He took pleasure from this small sense of power and dominance. Clary stood in place until he cast a taunting glance in her direction. That was when she could remain silent no longer. Yanking Alec's hand off her shoulder, she called to Jace.

"Stop, NO!" Clary was in shock, "Jace, he stole 12 grapes, you cannot be serious."

"Hmmm, perhaps you're right _dear_," A sly grin sliced his pretty features in half, "best include some toes as well."

No sooner had he said it, Jace stormed out of the room leaving an open mouthed Clary and a terrified villager staring after him. Clary was reawakened by the screams of the man as he was dragged away by the guards. Clary didn't hesitate to follow after them, ignoring the strange looks of those around her, she pleaded with the guards to stop.

"I'll even tell him you did, just don't harm the man for such a small crime."

They ignored her cries, shoving through a simple wooden door that Clary had never seen before. She followed them into the pits below without a second thought. At the base of the stairs, Clary gasped at the sight she saw. Men and women of all different ages were chained into cells. They looked like starved dogs one might find in a slum. _What have they done to deserve such treatment?_ She knew it would be for similar crimes as the man about to be punished. She hurried after him, skirts a flutter, trying her best to ignore the stares she received from the inmates.

"My lady," One of the guards exclaimed, "You should not see this. Go and have the maids prepare a pot of tea for your frazzled nerves."

This was the wrong thing to say to her in that moment.

"My frazzled nerves?" Her voice rose, "I am not a woman to be teased. You do not give orders, I do. _Your_ lady demands that you release this prisoner for a crime not worth this punishment." Her voice was deadly calm as she spat through her teeth, resisting the urge to lunge for the guard's throat.

"I apologize and beg your forgiveness, we take our orders from Lord Jonathan, his word overrules your own." She could tell he was shocked at he poison in her voice. He wasn't used to being shrieked at by sixteen year olds, much less smaller than average sixteen year olds.

He turned back to the man who was now shaking with anticipation of the pain to come. The other two guards chained his hands to a blood stained cutting board. Once the locks had clicked, they did the same with his feet, ensuring that he could not escape. Clary leapt to cover him but was yanked back by another guard. His hands franticly scrounged her body for something to hold onto, finding purchase on the laces of her silk dress.

"Turn away my lady," he whispered in her ear, "It will not help the man if you are watching."

"Get off of me. " She snarled back and lashed her hand out at him, effectively scratching his cheek. He cried out and shoved her to the ground, effectively tearing the beautiful gown.

With that, she heard the poor prisoner let out an earsplitting shriek as the guards began tearing at his flesh with their blades. Each toe and finger was removed slowly, one by one, ensuring the longest amount of pain possible. Throughout the ordeal, Clary never stopped thrashing, ignoring the soldiers hands on her waist as she tried offering him what little comfort she could with her voice. Finally, the guard released Clary, allowing her to clamor to the ground where she scrambled to the prisoners side. He was left with two big toes, thumbs, pointer, and middle fingers. He was moaning heavily, his head rocking from side to side as blood poured from the wounds. She gently lifted his head into her lap, humming lightly and brushing stray hair from his grimy face. Clary tore strips from her silk finery; feeling ridiculously overdressed in the present circumstance, and dipped them in a bowl of water to cleanse the wounds. She was as gentle as possible, binding the wounds while attempting to distract him with her voice. She sang songs in every language she knew. Hours of harsh instruction from her father had engrained ancient languages, useless, though soothing and beautiful never the less. Latin, Riveni, and Franc rolled off her tongue like thick ribbons. She sang as softly as possible, hoping to calm him. Even once his hands and feet were bound, she stayed with him. Clary sat with the man's head on her lap all day. She skipped every meal and refused to leave his side. She wanted to ensure that he would remain as healthy as possible through the night, even if it meant pain for her.

The people in the cells watched with fascination as the young girl, said to be their new queen, remained with the commoner all day. Never had they seen such tenderness and blatant rebellion against the Lords orders. They watched as her body grew weaker with famish, serving the man his dinner with a spoon, and eventually saw her eyes droop. They continued to watch with amazement as a familiar figure that struck fear into their souls and ravaged their bones approach, placing a tender kiss on her brow. Never had they seen Lord Jonathan Herondale look so content and gentle, much less with a girl. He called for a doctor to be brought down for the man, and for the other prisoners to be fed a thorough meal. With that, he lifted the girl into his arms, as though she weighed no more than a feather, and disappeared into the world of peace and light above.

**Okay,**

**1.) Jace will be MUCH better in the next chapter**

**2.) Review**

**3.) Finals are coming (F***). I wont be able to update of a while.**

**4.) Review**

**5.) Check out my other stories and vote for potential upcoming stories (see profile)**

**6.) Aggggghhhhh so long**!

**7.) I think that Cassie Clare's snippet (from a while ago) about Jonathan and the ****_mystery woman_**** is the about the Seelie Queen. Just sayin', it is suspicious.**


	6. An Alternate Reality

An Altered Reality-

_Chirp_

_Chirp_

Clary wrinkled her nose.

_Chirp_

The weightless music of birds drifted through the open window. A light breeze danced through the air, throwing various particles along, tickling her nose and stirring her hair. Clary exhaled nimbly, catching her lips between her teeth and smiling smoothly.

A Warm glow lit the back of her eyelids, illuminating the lattice-like veins that hid beneath the thin skin. The world was a solid shade of pale fuchsia and sunset orange, blazing with vitality when her eyes were closed. She breathed fully to her hearts content, listening to the changing pace of her pulse, before guzzling up the scent of minted cucumber and jasmine that seemed to flow through the room she lay in. Clary had not felt this well rested in ages and decided to enjoy the feeling a while longer while her mind was cleansed of the morning fog. Her limbs lay heavily upon the soft feathers of the mattress, making Clary fear she would fall right through to the ground. In an attempt to alleviate some of the weight, Clary reached her hands above her head and pulled her limbs in opposite directions, arching her back as she did so. A small sigh of pleasure escaped her mouth, as she turned to the side and burrowed her head into the plush pillows. She stretched every inch of her body like a cat. It was then that Clary decided that she would become a cat. Nothing sounded more pleasurable than eating and sleeping and stretching and patting for the rest of her days. This was a very good aspiration, she deemed proudly to herself with a small giggle, relishing in the silk sheets. She frowned. _Dungeons don't have silk._

There were no sounds of hungry stomachs or injured townsfolk. Her hands were not encrusted in a fine layer of dirt and blood. She was not lying on a cold stone floor, but instead in the middle of a large white bed, cloaked in the softest of sheets and embroidery. The ceiling above her held a magnificent molding, weaving back and forth to form an intricate pattern of leaves and forest animals. Her thoughts flicked to the man that she had followed into the dungeon. What had happened to him? She had to know.

Throwing the covers back, Clary saw that she was still dressed in yesterday's attire. The gown was torn and soiled in numerous locations, forcing her to remove it for decencies sake. She paid no attention to the replacement dress she picked, and instead hurried out the door to find Jace. Clary was desperate to know how the tortured man was.

Her footsteps were as loud as such a small girl could be. Striking the ground with ferocity unbeknownst to her. She moved so quickly that colors melted together like candle wax, melding to create strange knew shapes. Clary took very little notice of this as she searched for the Lord of the house.

Though her ultimate goal was Jace, she was actually looking for anyone that might be able to direct her to him; this house was far too large and maze-like for her own understanding. _There_, Clary thought, _a maid at last!_

"Wait!" She called, allowing the desperation to seep through. The girl ceased all movement before turning and lowering her head in respect or submission.

"What does my lady ask of me?" Her voice was small, like that of a mouse. Clary took pity on the girl and attempted to comfort her.

"There is no need for that." She gripped the taller girls chin and held it up. "Much better. You have such a nice face; no need to hide it." She smiled "Can you tell me where Lord Jonathan is?" She was back to business. The girl seemed slightly more relaxed at her behavior and smiled eagerly, clearly happy at Clary's behavior.

"Right this way my lady." And they were off! Through the endless hallways, Clary saw so many statues and carvings that she was nearly blind with the ornate detailing of it all.

Not long after her encounter with the servant girl, Clary found herself in front of a small arched hallway. Rot iron windows, casting an eerie crisscross pattern along the narrow ground, lined the thin path. The steep edge of the roof hung over the edge of the walls, obscuring a portion of the view. As she stepped forward to one of the windows, it became apparent that the hall was in fact an arched bridge, crossing over the top of the waterfall she had seen when she had first arrived. On the other side lay a lone tower shrouded in a thick layer of ivy, pressed against a small cliff. The rough stone remained hidden among a sea of branches and lost blossoms. When she turned back to ask what the room was, she was met with silence, as the girl had long since left. This, she felt, was a private wing of the grounds.

Timidly, Clary stepped forward. Catching her reflection in one of the window pains, she noted that she had chosen a cream gown with a tightly fitted bodice and loose translucent sleeves. It was adorned with a light pattern of roses connected by twining veins, reminding her of the sort of things she would wear as a child, running around the house grounds with her brother. This was before he had found his inner Valentine and turned on her.

Clary's face darkened.

"Who is that sneaking about the entry hall there?" Jace's voice called. Clary was frozen for only a moment before replaying.

"It is Clary."

The door swung open, revealing the tanned figure of a lion on the prowl. When his eyes met hers he allowed a slow smirk to spread across his features, letting his eyes linger on her tightly clad chest and free flowing hair.

"Someone was a little eager to see me this morning." He leaned against the simple doorframe, crossing his arms over his half unbuttoned shirt, revealing dark markings along the skin. She noted with slight amusement that his pants mirrored the shirt in the fact that they remained un-tucked. Somehow he seemed to look put-together, though he was anything but. This sent a flash of annoyance through Clary's scalp, though she was careful to keep it from showing.

"Yes, but not for the company." She rolled her eyes, blowing a stray hair out of her face with a puff.

"You wound me madam." Jace's voice was filled with mock hurt as he clutched at his chest, falling back a step before catching himself and straightening. His face was all business as he gestured for her to enter. Clary had originally planned on paying a quick visit, though curiosity got the best of her, as it often did, and she eagerly passed into the unknown room that Jace seemed to keep to himself.

To say the least, the room was not what she had expected. A small wood burning stove sat in the far corner, nearest the window and behind the desk. A chair of rich velvet was placed behind it, creating what Clary decided would be the prime reading location. In place of the far wall, there was instead a plain bookshelf, decked with an array of novels, guides, and historical and religious texts in a numerous languages, some of which were unfamiliar even to Clary. Mismatched chairs and cluttered tables were spread throughout the room in odd gatherings, often covered in seemingly random including spyglasses, maps, rolled parchment and forgotten relics to the strangest of weapons used for god knows what. What made the room all the more striking was the creamy texture of the honey wood, interwoven throughout, uniting each piece together through that single visual bond. Though it was well worn and faded in some areas, it seemed to give off an unearthly glow that made Clary feel a pot of freshly boiled jasmine and sage tea.

"I built it myself you know." He stroked his fingers along the knobby paneling. "I didn't want anyone else to touch my things… Come to think of it, I haven't let anyone in here besides myself since it's inception."

"I feel honored my lord." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"As well you should. So," his voice snaked into her thoughts, pulling the artist within her back to her hiding spot, allowing Clary to order her thoughts. "What is it that you needed?"

"I came to check on the man from yesterday… How is he?"

"As well as he can be. I called a doctor after moving you and fed them all." He winced, realizing his fatal mistake.

"You brought me to my rooms?" Her brows were knitted together in concentration.

"Are you really so surprised?"

"What do you mean? You're the sort of man that butchers for power and abuses it once it is obtained. You are supposed to protect these people, yet you remove limbs for crimes you force them to commit through poor ruling. How could I not be surprised?"

He stared at her for a moment before glancing out the window.

"It seems all of our conversations end up like this." He seemed saddened by this thought.

"Don't change the subject. If you were half the man you think you are you would cease to rule like this."

"I have not asked for your advice on how to govern." He snapped. This once more stoked Clary's anger, allowing it to spill over.

"You humiliated me. You humiliated these people. How could you be so impossibly cruel to your own subjects?"

"I have my reasons."

"That isn't good enough… Not for me, and it never will be."

"Get used to it darling." He brushed passed her, shoving the corner of his shoulder into her as he did so, throwing Clary off balance. She was about to follow him when everything tipped into a strange sort of madness, altering the fabric of Clary's current state of mind.

The walls throbbed inward, making it feel as though they were trying to press together and crush her with unseen teeth. Black spots found their way into her skull, prying and tearing at the energy reserves that held her form together like thread and needles. Clary leaned back, grasping with her fingertips at the corner of the table for found herself holding negative space. She began to twist forward, nearly hitting the ground when she heard her name being called through the built up pressure in her ears. She felt a hand snap out to grasp her head, threading through the fine hair at the base of her neck, preventing it from striking the ground. She found herself staring at the ceiling, a bright light encroaching quickly from all sides. She wondered incoherently if this was what battle felt like. Enemy soldiers surrounding you, closing in on all escape routes until all hope was lost. Everything went dark and for a single moment, Clary was suspended in space. She felt her body float through a river of darkness, sending out small ripples to disturb the peace. This serenity did not follow the basic rules of reality. Time was irrelevant and Clary lay there for an infinity of lifetimes. Over and over she wondered what her name was, and what the world was that she so desperately clung to, though she could never quite place it. Everything was dark, as was her mind. Nothing mattered, excluding the thrum of her heartbeat, reverberating across the non-existent walls, steadily increasing and growing in volume. The pressure of the non-room built up until she was thrust back into the world in a movement reminiscent of breaking the surface tension of a stagnant pond. Clary could breath again.

"Clary! Are you alright?" A shadowed face perched above her. "Get water now!" It called desperately. Clary's vision was beginning to recover, but the room was still spinning.

"What happened?" Her voice was dry and tired. She found herself unable to annunciate.

"You fainted, Clary. When was the last time you had something to eat?" She realized it was Jace that had caught her. He wore a worried face, lips pressed together in concentration.

Now that Clary thought of it, she couldn't remember her last meal. It had to be before arriving the previous day. Taking her silence as confirmation of her starvation, Jace lowered a cup, brought by a servant, to her lips. Tilting her head back gently, she swallowed a strangely salty liquid. She had been expecting water, but was surprised to find soup.

"You must take better care of yourself." He scolded. She could tell that he wasn't angry with her.

"Since when have you been worried about my well being?"

"Haven't I always been?" Noting the confused expression on her face, he continued.

"Everything I've done has been for you."

"What? Harming innocent people?" Her eyes never left his. She tried to remove herself from his grasp, but was held back by his hands.

"You're so blind sometimes. Think about it Clary, I gave up a kingdom for you. At any moment I could have swept down and taken you from your fathers grasp, but did I? No. I thought you might see that I had taken a more merciful route and see me for what I really am. I sent some of my closest friends after you. You rode _my _horse all the way here. I wanted to show you, somehow, that you meant something to me." His eyes shone with sincerity in a way Clary had never seen. She could tell that he was trying to make her believe him with everything he had. Perhaps, just maybe, he meant what he said. Maybe she was somehow important to him.

"How could you have given up so much for me? You didn't even know what I looked like." He took a moment to respond.

"I had just conquered your father's lands. Do you really think he would have lied about you when offering you as a peace treaty?" When he noted the puzzled look on her face, he clarified. "He sent me a portrait of you. From that moment onward, I had to get to know you." He grasped her hands in his, nearly swallowing them in the process, "Clary… I need you here with me, to keep me from doing what I did yesterday. Can't you see that?"

"You don't know me."

"I want to…" He looked down, "I watched you Clary, with the people in the dungeons. I saw how you cared for them despite their low status. I'm sorry I did that to you."

"Y-you watched me? Is that supposed to be romantic?"

"Most would find it endearing."

"I'm not most people."

"No. You aren't."

She almost laughed, "You really know nothing about me." This time she did laugh, harshly, but a laugh nonetheless, "For one, I hate being spied on. And for two, I _hate_ pointless punishment." She paused, looking down," I have endured it for too long." His face softened as he reached his hands out to brush her cheek.

"They hurt you?"

"What do you think?"

"Show me."

Clary knew she could not. Not without revealing her body in ways she never had before.

"My back…" She trailed off. Understanding flicked across his face as he traced her curled hand.

"Did they burn you here?" His voice was so soft. Clary had nearly forgotten about the mark on her hand. His comment and tone only made her blush in embarrassment.

"No…I-I grabbed a hot poker."

"On purpose?" His brows shot up.

"No-well yes… I mean, I was just upset…" Humiliation traced its way up her throat, deepening the already vibrant flush. He chuckled at the display, bringing her palm to his lips and kissing it ever so softly.

"There will be no more of that Clarissa. Come, you must eat."

The sun caught on to each bud of every flower, sending rivulets of floral light into the air, reflecting across everything. Jace too was bathed in the soft glow, forming a sort of halo around his hair. Clary sighed and laid her head back upon the grass, reveling in the feeling as each blade bent to her shape. Her hands came to rest a short distance from her cheeks, bent ever so lightly at the elbow.

"You like the warmth I take it?"

"Usually not, actually." Her eyes flicked over to where he was seated, watching her with a child-like curiosity. "I much prefer the coolness of rain. Heat makes you uncomfortable regardless of activity… though it is rather nice at the moment."

He responded with a muffled humph.

"You see, when it is cold you can simply add layers to your taste." Clary sat up on her elbows, loose curls falling down her chest, "When it is hot, no matter how many layers you remove, you are still uncomfortable. Even once your naked the heat persists."

When she mentioned nakedness she caught the mischievous smile that spread across his features and grinned back deviously. Clary reached across the blanket to the basket of artisan cheeses, breads, and fruits, claiming a grape dipped in tupelo honey. She placed the morsel into her mouth, sucking the excess syrup of her fingers. Jace sat a short distance away, sipping a cool wine and watching her with mild fascination.

"Here," he removed a medium sized package from the basket. "Isabelle said you liked to draw. I thought I might get you something to release your artistic talents… I saw the way you looked at everything in the study." He seemed slightly embarrassed to admit to having observed her.

Clary removed the simple butcher paper to reveal a worn brown suede sketchbook. Though there were several ink stains on it, she smiled nonetheless. She looked up to thank him, noting the relieved look on his face.

"I'm sorry I couldn't find something with more grandeur…It was a last minute gift that I had had lying around since I was a boy."

"It's lovely, no artist wants the work within overshadowed by the casing." Clary thought of the oxblood pad she had bought in Calinome. Dusting her fingers over the back cover, she frowned, turning it over to reveal the imprint of a strange symbol. It was similar to the ones that Jace bore on his skin, though it seemed different, less feral.

"Come Jace, let me draw you." The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them, but when she saw the look on his face, she smiled and positioned him to the side.

An hour or so later, Clary sat examining the rough sketch that was Jace. The edges were jagged and the face felt wrong. It resembled him exactly, but no matter how many times she looked at, the overwhelming sense of incorrectness filled her to the brim.

He sat in front of her, his face tilted away from her, looking far off in the distance. His legs were bent on front of him, his one arm resting atop the peeks of his knees and the other supported him from behind, clenching around a few crushed flowers. She smiled and laughed as a stray leaf blew into his eye, making him flinch. Clary looked down at the drawing to work on the shading underneath his jawbones, but when she looked back at him for reference, she was met with a full view his face.

"Jace!" She scolded. "You cannot move in the middle of modeling"

"But the view is much better where you are concerned." He chuckled at the sight of the blush that burned across her skin. Instead of responding, Clary simply narrowed her eyes and pointed in the direction he should be looking, returning to her drawing with a flicking motion, tracing the tip of the pencil across the page in what she liked to think of as a dance. Smudging the fresh line with her now dirtied fingers, Clary looked back to compare her work. Instead of the serene sight she had been expecting, she was suddenly underneath a very heavy body with loud breaths tickling her ear.

"Jace!" She smacked his chest. "You ruined my drawing."

"Your drawing is just fine-" He glanced at the discarded book. "And besides, I was far too bored to continue sitting there. Your drawing is nearly finished anyways…"

"Anyone who knew anything about art would know that that-" She pointed to the book. "-is nowhere near finished."

He laughed and lightly brushed his lips across her forehead. When he pulled back, Clary simply looked at him for a while.

"Have you ever drawn?" She brushed the hand not clasped in his across his hairline.

"I tried to learn as a boy. Unfortunately I had very little patience for it. Instead I learned the art of blood and music."

"An odd combination for an odd boy." She noted. "I can picture you as a frustrated boy, throwing inadequate sketches around." She laughed, throwing her head back, revealing more of her throat in the process. She could feel the rumble that rolled through his diaphragm due to the proximity of their bodies.

Clary was startled from her joy as she felt the cool prickle of ice upon her skin. A crease appeared between her brows as she examined the sky. She had been so caught up in her companion that she had failed to notice the darkening clouds. Jace brushed another drop from her cheek and told her that they should return. She reluctantly agreed, swinging on to Wayfarer behind him.

When the two figures drew through the gate, they were both soaked to the bone. The ride back had been considerably slower, as Wayfarer could not run down the steep hills in mud and maintain safety. Clary's once light gown now clung to her body uncomfortably with the added water weight. Her hair was plastered to her face in an uncomely fashion. Jace, much to her amusement, was in a similar state of disarray, seeing as neither of them had thought to bring a cloak. The sudden change in weather had seemed more like a shift in seasons, washing away any memory of the once golden warm fields.

"I apologize Clarissa, I should have remembered how quickly the weather can change here. You should see the winter…" He trailed off, grasping her waist and helping her down from the horse.

Once on the ground, Jace placed a firm hand on her back, guiding her inside to one of the many sitting rooms. This one, though sheltered, did not have window coverings, and therefore was still rather chilly, sending shivers up Clary's back. Jace grasped one of the fine velvet blankets that decorated the sofas and placed it around her shoulders, rubbing warmth into her arms with his own.

"Though I have enjoyed our time together, I regret to say that I must leave you now." He pressed his lips to her cheek by way of saying farewell, and turned to leave.

Clary watched him go with a sinking heart, the warmth following in his absence. Before he could leave entirely, Clary called out his name. Jace turned to her in surprise, simply staring at her across the distance. Before she could think, Clary had crossed the space between them, standing up on her toes to meet his lips. She was far too short to reach him on her own, forcing her to pull his face down to hers.

His lips were so soft, feeling like peaches against her mouth. He still tasted of wine, sugar, and spice from the picnic. Clary lost herself in the kiss for a moment, pulling back when she felt his hands thread through her hair, attempting to bring her closer. She giggled softly, nuzzling his chin with her nose, before pulling away and hurrying around the corner. She could feel his eyes watching her back, a dizzy smile on his mouth. When Clary rounded the corner, she felt the weight of his gaze lift from her back, allowing her to lean back and rest her head on the wall. She smiled a let out a light huff, refusing to delve too far into the kiss, before pushing off in search of dry clothes.

After the kiss she shared with Jace, Clary had returned to her quarters, replacing the sopping wet dress with a much heavier navy velvet number, better suited to the dropping temperature. She had draped a light cloak around her shoulders to add an extra layer of water resistance.

The rain was coming down as hard as ever, striking the roof with a excruciating force. Clary sat in a small sheltered alcove that seemed to be cut out of the wall itself. Several painted clay pots were nestled into the same spot, adding a splash of color to the beige wall. She watched as the nearby puddles built up with rippling force as rain was added, sending rivulets streaming down to where Clary was kneeling. She made no move to correct the water that ran onto her dress, dampening it ever so slightly, but not enough to reach through the many layers she wore. The rain was so heavy now that it was nearly a constant waterfall. That coupled with the fact that the sun itself would sink below the horizon in a mere matter of minutes, made it nearly impossible to make out the greenery around her. Clary had never seen anything more beautiful.

The pathways were lined with glass lanterns that sent out an eerie glow. Because of the water, this light reflected across the puddles, making them look like the nighttime skies. She was unable to resist any longer, disregarding the wellbeing of the dress she wore, Clary stepped out of the shelter. She tugged her hood up to preserve her warmth, but other than that, she paid no mind to the water. As she walked forward, following the starry path into the unfamiliar forest, Clary's boots and skirt sent out ripples, further disturbing the peace. She was reminded of how it had felt to faint, to lose touch with reality and simply exist. It was lovely.

The forest looked entirely different in this light. Everything seemed to come alive, moving and dipping with each beat of water. The light from the lanterns now reached the droplets on the leaves, lighting them up in a strange sort of ethereal city. _A City of Heavenly Fire_, she thought. Clary tilted her head back, allowing the hood to fall, in order to better feel the weight of the air upon her lungs. Everything smelt fresh and clean, almost as if it had been reborn from one beauty to the next.

The water slid down her throat, gathering at her collarbones, before rushing out down her chest. Her hair, once smooth and silky, collected much moisture, funneling it down her back, between her shoulder blades. Clary made no move to alter this fate a she wondered further into wood, eyes sealed shut. She remained in this position, welcoming the cold, until something caught her eye. A small collection of light lay up the path. Realizing she didn't know how to get back to her rooms, Clary decided to press forward.

As she emerged from the woods, she came to see a small house down by the river. Half of it was built out over the water, making Clary feel like it was a bridge between two worlds, holding them together and preventing the irreparable rip caused by their separation. There was a narrow ramp that went all the way around the ramp, leading to a small rowboat that looked as if it had been unused in years. The light Clary had seen before came throw the gossamer curtains, hiding whatever it was that resided within. Cautiously, Clary walked forward, rapping on the door when she was within reach.

"Alec, is that you?" She recognized the replying voice instantly as Magnus'.

"No Magnus, it is Clary."

"Clary! Oh my-" A loud bang was heard through the door, suggesting that he had tripped over something. The door was abruptly flung open, revealing a disheveled Magnus with a large smile on his face.

"Clary darling, do come in." He stepped aside, allowing for her to enter. "How can you stand such weather? Especially in such a lovely gown as that."

Clary smiled in response; instead she examined his peculiar attire. He wore a satin blazer of the brightest shade of crimson that Clary had ever seen. Underneath he wore no shirt, instead opting for a necklace laced with an impressive collection of teeth of varying sizes and shapes. The trousers he wore were plum velvet and were so loose that Clary almost mistook them for a skirt.

"Aren't they stunning?" He said, noting the look on her face. "I picked them up from a most wonderful trader in the Isle of Saltrine! Or at least I thought he was wonderful until he sold me spotty florylin root. Bastard!" He muttered under his breath.

Clary had remained silent throughout his rantings, patiently listening as he described why he had been at the Isle in the first place. Somewhere along the way, she had gotten lost in the sea that was Magnus' home. The walls and furniture were all a dark mahogany, detailed with various carvings throughout. All of the walls were bookshelves, containing entire alphabets that Clary could not recognize at all. There were pillows, blankets and chairs stacked haphazardly around the room, littered with jars full of God only knows what. She assumed that florylin was in at least one of them, though she did not know which, much less what it was. Candles and incense were strung about, creating what Clary would have called a fire hazard, though she did not mention this to him. Despite the near overbearing smoke, she quite liked the exotic scent that matched him so well.

"Clary" Magnus' voice called her back to reality, alerting her to the fact that he had stopped talking ages ago. "I do not understand where you go sometimes. It was like this on our ride over here too. You just disappear into your own head. I wish I could do that too…escape."

"Apparently you can escape in reality as well." She said, watching the confused expression melt over his angular features. "You left in quite the hurry the other day." His confusion was replaced by guilt at her words. She hadn't meant to sound so venomous, but she realized now how angry she was.

"I am sorry about that Clary. I just had business to attend to."

"You left me in a strange country, with strange servants, leading me to a strange man I had only heard horror stories about. What business was more important than that? I thought we were friends."

"Yes well, you see… this business was more…personal than that. I was ever so anxious to see him." He winced. Realization donned on Clary.

"Alec?" She asked. Magnus blushed. Clary giggled. He looked up at her in surprise, obviously not expecting this reaction form her.

"Quite perceptive I see. I am your friend Clary, but Alec usually takes precedence over everything."

"If I am your friend, then why haven't you offered me anything to dry myself with?" Clary let her tones take on a more playful tone, letting him know that she wasn't angry with him. His eyes widened as he began spitting apologies out, ruffling through the many items on a table until finding a blanket and tossing it to her. She gratefully wrapped it around her shoulder, wringing out her hair in the process. He watched her with unblinking cat eyes, waiting for her to make a move. She complied.

"Magnus, can you tell me about him?… Jace I mean."

"I could only tell you the basics. Even I don't know much about your betrothed. If you want to understand him better, learn why he is the way he is, you will have to pay a visit to the Storyteller."

**Okay sooooo… Review! The next chapter will hopefully by sooner than this one, though shorter (I think). They will be married in the chapter after that so yay for that! I also want to apologize for poor editing. I got really tired a bored towards the end of the construction of this chapter. As always I hope you guys check out my other stories and tell me what you hope to see next. I also wanted to claify that Clary's brother's name is Jonathan and Jace's name is Jonathan.**


	7. The Storyteller

**Okay people, sorry for not updating, I can assure you that there was a very good reason though. This chapter may not be as interesting as others, but it is important later on. As always, check out my other stories if you want aaaaannnnddd REVIEW!**

** P.S. Guess who gets married next chapter **

-The Storyteller

Clary wandered through the watery paths of the forest, searching for a small cottage. Taking heed of Magnus' directions, Clary wound through endless fissures and arteries, leading to _the Storyteller_. Rain still pattered like the light footsteps of a dancer against the accumulated puddles. In each drop of dew that rested, Clary saw her face, reflected millions of times over, followed by the low light of the lanterns. It seemed as if she was being followed by a storm of fireflies, flickering across the moonlight path. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the silver light of the night. Wide eyes stood out from beneath her hood, glimmering in hope. She had to know more about the strange man she was going to marry in a few days time. Though she knew that she should ask Jace for answers, she was not brave enough to confront him yet. Her curiosity had once again gotten the better of her. Clary had no doubts that this time curiosity would kill the cat.

This thought both frightened and excited her. Small sparks raced through her veins, giving her stomach nervous flutters. She knew what he was capable of now; she had witnessed it, so she knew she had to be extra careful. He may have been kind earlier, but he seemed to switch moods as easily as the weather here.

As she wandered the path, Clary soon became aware that there were no longer any paths that branched off from the one she was on. She hoped that she had found the correct way because she had no idea where else to go.

These worrisome thoughts were soon put to rest when she glimpsed a small gathering of light in the distance. Rounding a corner, Clary came face to face with a small clearing harboring a house that should have been abandoned. If the light of candles and fire within had not been there, Clary would have guessed that the old thing was inhabited by only the darkest of creatures and foulest of insects. Its roof was half collapsed on one side, the windows had deep cracks, and the siding was in varying stages of decay. It looked as though it would collapse at the slightest change in wind direction.

Tentatively, Clary approached what she assumed was the front door. Being careful not to fall through the precariously leaning porch. She brought her hand up to the termite infested door, rapping lightly so as not to make a hole in it with her fist. She waited, and waited, and just when she was about to turn around, the door opened a fraction of an inch, sending an echoing screech into the forest. Clary jumped when she noticed a dark eye peering out at her.

"What do you want girl?" A voice that sounded severely underused called out.

"I-I was sent here by Magnus Bane. The warlock-"

"Yes, Yes I know him." The woman interrupted. "I'll only say it once now. What do you want?"

"I want to ask you some questions…about Jace."

The door crept open a little more. Enough so that Clary could see the haggard old face of the storyteller. Clary noticed with some shock that the woman had only one eye. Her hair was a graying brown, heaped onto her head in a ragged scarf. The flickering from the fireplace behind gave her an eerie glow.

"So you're the Morgenstern bitch brought here for a little playing." She stated.

Clary winced at the harsh words, attempting to correct the woman. "I am no toy. I simply wish to know my betrothed."

"Why don't you ask him little doll? Hmm? Too afraid to face your man?" She taunted back.

" I am not afraid." Clary felt fire rise within her. "And if he ever were to lay a hand on me, I would cut off his manhood and throw it over that cliff that he chose to build his home on. I did not come here to be mocked. I did not come here to be belittled. I have had far too many uncontrollable events in my life and I intend to stand my ground. Now let me in or I will send guards after you once I am the lady of this house in which you reside."

The woman stared at her for a moment. Clary thought she would slam the door in her face for her outburst; Clary wasn't even sure where it had come from. Her thoughts were put to rest when the woman's eyes rested on her face and a curious smile spread across her lips.

"I like you Clarissa. Do come in, and please, call me Dorathy."

Clary gawked at the toad-faced woman. She hadn't been expecting her change in mood, and certainly hadn't expected her to know her name. Brushing these thoughts asides, Clary timidly stepped into the dark warmth that the house had to offer.

She was immediately struck with a tidal wave of the sharp scent of burning candles and incense, transporting Clary to what she felt was another dimension. Lush velvet curtains hung from the walls and ceiling, disguising the decrepit state of the house. A warm fire crackled on the far wall, directly behind a small set of table and chairs. The floor was blanketed in a fine set of Persian rugs, retaining the heat, and forcing Clary to remove her cloak.

"Don't just stand around girl, come sit by the fire before you catch your death. God only knows how long you were out there and your soaked to the bone. That can't be healthy for anyone, especially of your small stature." Dorathy beckoned Clary to come sit by the fire.

Though she was sweltering, she was eager to dry off. Clary dutifully took her place beside the old crone, smoothing her skirts as she did so. Clary started when she felt bony fingers lift her chin up to meet the woman's single eye. After a few moments of being under the spotlight, Clary was released from scrutiny.

"Well, you certainly are a pretty thing. I can see why he likes you."

"Jace?"

"No, my rabbit. Who do you think?" Though her tone was hard, Clary saw the smile on the woman's face. "Don't answer that, I was being impatient. You simply want to know what your future holds. Unfortunately, you must know the past first."

"I have no idea where to begin." Clary paused, giving it some thought. "Where did he come from?"

"A very broad topic indeed, especially for one who knows so little about the outside world."

"My father-"

"Was a very cruel man. He made sure that you were kept in the dark about most things, excluding languages. Am I right?"

"Well yes, but-" Clary was interrupted once more.

"Then it seems we have a starting place." Dorathy paused long enough to reach for her tea, drinking deeply before glancing at Clary. "Now, shall we begin?"

Clary nodded her head vigorously in reply.

"Many of the countries in Allicante were formed by families from outside of the country itself. When the lords of the land turned on each other, it opened a doorway for those of other countries to enter. There are two main countries to focus on: Seraph and Deveral. Your husband to be is from the country of Seraph."

Dorathy paused to take another sip of tea, her gaze flickering to the wavering flame between them. Clary heard the distant patter of rain against the window and the splat against a can beneath a leak. The wind seemed to have picked up outside, adding to the loud crashes of thunder that jolted Clary's skeleton.

"Now, Seraph was a curious country. Its people were a God-like race, said to be descended from angels. They were called the Nephilim. Despite their heritage and misleading looks, they were not very kind to what they considered to be lesser races. The slave trade became a very lucrative business for the Nephilm, adding to their ever-increasing power. The people were trained from birth to be perfect warriors, not only of the body, but also the mind. They sought to add to their ever-increasing empire, destroying and torturing entire peoples as they went. Though they seemed unstoppable, every rise has its downfall."

Dorathy's eye darkened as she thought, her brow deeply furrowed. Clary could not help the coldness that spread through her limbs, cementing them in place. The people beneath the castle were going to be sold. They were nothing more than livestock to him, no more than she was. After a deep breath, the woman continued her story.

"Though the Nephilim were responsible for many unthinkable horrors, there was another country, Deveral, that was far worse. These were the ancient enemies of Seraph. Raised from the deepest parts of hell, the people were responsible for so much pain. For every land that fell to Seraph, two fell to Deveral. They grew so powerful that they were able to overcome the monsters that bore them into existence, gaining absolute power. The two powers met in the Razen battlefield, fighting for years. Eventually, the Nephilim fell to slaughter, excluding one garrison. It was more of a small army, supporting around 10,000 men and women, all of which wer controlled by the royal prince."

"Jace…" Clary breathed out.

"Indeed." Dorathy's eyes tightened before continuing.

"His troops escaped to the war torn land of Allicante, quickly laying claim to Idris."

She gestured around them, laying her hand to rest on the back of Clary's seat.

"They built up the cities and towns quickly, attempting to regroup with what little they had. Despite the ordeal they had been through, they had managed to bring a few thousand slaves with them. This included the Warlocks of Lilit, the Fair Folk of Feyra, the Shape shifters of Lupin, and the Leaches of Vamin. In their mournful state, the Nephilim allowed for the escape of the enslaved, leading to the establishment of Calinome and other such countries. Refugees escaping the Demons of Deveral, flocked in as well, leading to the introduction of magic to the lands of humanity. Ever since, the Seraphs have picked up the slave trade, attempting to build their empire once again." Her voice was wistful.

"Despite this, they only trade humans, which is why Magnus Bane and I are free to help them if it please us. It was not such a fair deal to you humans, which is why your father ruled the way he did. It was fear."

"What about the Deverals. Why have the not come here?" Clary's voice was eager. She had learned so much in this visit and planned on quenching her thirst for knowledge.

"Daevins are what they are called. They have come here, though their power has weakened considerably. After the fall of the Nephilim, there was nothing to hold back the demons from below. They swarmed up and attacked their creations for turning on them. By the time they Daevins had ended the attack, much of their people had fallen, though they still managed to capture demons for their armies. Eventually, they too were forced to come here, leaving behind the dead worlds. Nothing can grow through the blood stained grounds of our former homes. Nearly all life on Earth is based here now. One lonely continent, locked in an eternal war, fighting for survival." Her voice had gone hollow with regret.

For a moment they simply sat in silence, Clary in awe and sadness, Dorathy in remembrance. Clary couldn't imagine all of the death that had occurred. All of the pain and torture the few living creatures had to endure should not have been possible. Clary's head was spinning, her nerves on edge, unable to focus her thoughts. The continuous thundering of the rain and wind did not help this matter.

"You should return home. It is late and I have no room for you here." The old woman's eye spoke of knowing. Before Clary could respond, Dorothy's insistent hands were wrapping Clary's cloak around her shoulders and pushing her out the door.

Her mind was thrown back into focus as ice-cold daggers slashed at her face, soaking her instantly. Cursing the storyteller, whose door was now firmly shut, Clary ran as fast as she could through the downpour. Her boots were drenched, making soft squishes with each step. This time, Clary had no time to marvel at the beauty around her. Not only were her thoughts shaken, but also her body was being attacked by torrents of rain. Branches and leaves were being flung around like throwing knives. Attempting to avoid the debris, Clary hurried into the night.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Some time later, She found herself walking down a familiar foyer, gasping for breath like a drowned man. All energy had been drained from her body as she hurried to her rooms. Spending the day with Jace, wandering the garden, and meeting with Dorathy had all taken their toll on her small frame. She wanted nothing more than to collapse on her bed and never wake up. She smiled at this thought. Her relief was short lived however, when she came to find that her bedroom door was propped open. Clary tentatively opened the door, wincing at the low creak. The only light came from the fire that burned and the moonlight the trickled through the curtains.

Jace sat on the edge of one of the chairs beside the fire, studying the snake-like smoke that wove into nothingness; the pale light, giving his face a severe edge, highlighted his cheekbones. His hair, once gold, looked like steel strands, glinting with each crack of the tendrils of heat in front of him. In his hands there rested a book, laying face down as if forgotten.

"Where were you?" His voice was cold, sending small pricks of worry biting down her body.

"Nowhere…I was wandering the garden." Clary could hear the slight shake in her voice.

"Don't lie to me darling, I can always tell."

"I was telling the tru-"

"You were snooping." He interrupted. Jace's voice was deadly calm as he slowly looked up at her.

"Jace please." She begged. "I didn't mean anything by it. I only wanted to understand you."

His voice was cold; the sharpness of his tongue was like claws sinking into soft flesh. "And why, pray tell, could you not ask me?"

Clary's eyes fell from his, unable to stand his piercing gaze. She quietly, almost to herself, mumbled "I did no know how you would react… i-if I inquired about your past." Her hands were clasped firmly across her waist.

She almost gasped when she felt the soft breath of fingers underneath her skin, lighting it with an ever-flowing grace. The soft scratch of fingernails pressed her skin in, alerting her senses. As she met his eyes once more, she allowed her mind to dissect his body. Every scar, every callous, every birthmark or indentation was imprinted on her skull, reminding her that he was in fact real. Jace was not a flawless marble statue, he was a living organism, and he was holding her face in a cradle of wounded warmth.

"I know I can be cold Clary, but never forget that you can trust me." With that, Jace left in a tawny shadow. She hadn't heard footsteps or the squeak of the door hinges as he left. Clary knew she would not last much longer and simply threw herself onto the bed, curling up as she did so. She fell into a deep slumber, lying in a pile of skirts.


	8. The Sea of Stars

-The Sea of Stars

Her room was awash with the warmth of glimmering flames. Low candles burned in the dusky room, allowing for a welcoming and wavering light. The burning embers reflected off of the various jewels and china sets that littered the room. This was the columniation of her wedding gifts. Jace had informed her of the marriage customs of his homeland, being that the bride would choose from among them what to wear while her fate was sealed off for an eternity. This knowledge made the choice far more difficult.

_What to wear to symbolize the chains that will bind me until my death?_ She thought dryly, trailing her fingers over the smooth surfaces of crystal, cloth, and metal. Catching her reflection, Clary gave a small smile.

A light jasmine scent drifted through the air like smoke, not too strong, but not too soft. The scent wandered up her throat like a trail of sugar until stopping at the curve of her jaw. The perfumed air intermingled with that of the baby's breath bouquet placed on the pale vanity in front of her. Only a singular red poppy broke the white of the flowers.

Soft waves, interwoven among themselves in a delicate cascade of silk and mother of pearl, were elegantly wrapped in a ribbon at the crown of her head. Clary had pulled several ringlets out of the braided bun to frame her face in fear of looking too unlike herself. She felt the swaying of the loose ringlets with each step she took, no matter how light.

As she wondered through the room searching for her bridal gem, she felt the slight drag of the train that followed her like a shadow. Ivory silk and pale gold lace synched at her waist before gracefully flowing to the floor in a calla lily shape. Her arms were covered by lace, embellished with pearls in the exquisite language of the Seraphic runes. They spoke of love, devotion, and eternity, binding her to Jace.

Though Clary knew that she remained a slave, she couldn't help but feel a certain yearning for Jace. She felt as if she had somehow known him for a very long time. Warmth passed through her body followed by a flutter in her heart. She knew she was inexperienced with love and tenderness, though she still felt as if that was what she experienced with him. Glancing down, Clary realized that her fingertips were brushing a thin chain. Bringing it up to the light to examine it closer, she saw that it was a necklace. Light reflected off of the white gold ring, sending strange patterns dancing across the walls. Small engravings seemed to shine light as if ignited in a storm. Clary knew. This piece was meant to be worn while she walked down the isle.

"My Lady" A small voice addressed her from behind.

Jumping from her trance, Clary replied, "Yes, what is it?"

"It is time for you to come." The mouse-like girl responded, eyes downcast.

Clary approached her silently, tipping her chin up when she was close enough. "You do not have to look down in my presence." Smiling at her, Clary turned, asking the girl to clasp the necklace. After complying, a sheer veil was placed over her head. The front reached her waist while the back settled on the ground, longer than her train.

She took one last glance in the mirror before hurrying down the hall.

_Breath._

_Just breath._

_In. Out. In. Out._

Clary could hear nothing but her own breaths. They were only unsteady echoes in her mind, chiming like ghost whispers. She was dimly aware of the hustle of maids running about, making last minute changes to the angle of the veil and such. It all felt as if it were happening a great distance off, or that she operated in her own world, watching yet unable to touch.

Her heartbeat had quickened considerably now that she was faced with actually doing this. Before it had felt unreal in some strange sort of way. Reality was bitingly hard in the present. Clary knew that she would face the crowds completely, and utterly alone. Unlike human weddings, Seraphic tradition stated that a woman must be isolated in order to find solace in the company of her husband-to be.

All Clary felt was lost. And then the door opened.

For a moment, all she could do was stand. A hush came over the crowds, all seated on the ground in a blanket of flowers, a single candle in each guest's hand, lighting the forest in an incandescent glow. For the first time in her life, Clary felt tall. It was the worst feeling in the world.

She timidly took a first step, and then another. All of the people began singing in hushed voices, ringing throughout the forest in a harmony of the sweetest kind. Voices sounded out like harps, sending tremors through her body. Clary was terrified that she would fall or run. Every eye was on her as she searched the crowd for a familiar face. And then she found one.

Gold eyes met hers, rushing over her like molten rock. She felt the comfort of his gaze worm through every crack in her mind, removing every doubt, every fear, and every escape plan in her mind. Her steps became more even, more regular, as she glided over the pathway. Every inch forward strengthened the pull she felt to Jace as though he were reeling her in. Instead of feeling cornered, she felt as if she was escaping from a trap and tasting sunlight once more. Clary couldn't help but smile as she approached the dais where he stood.

The moment her foot touched the first step, the forest surrounding them was lit up by thousands of glass lanterns. She turned her eyes from Jace, admiring the glow of candles and firefly's. A sea of stars met moist earth, growing like tree roots to the core of the planet's life. As if she was in another place, another time, moonlight waves swallowed her whole, only leaving small ripples upon the glassy ocean surface to mark her disappearance. Time did not exist here, only small algae debris drifted past as she stared ahead. Her hair had been undone and floated around her. Blood red brushed her face in empty blue waters.

She was gone, if only for a moment.

And then a hand reached from the sky, lacing through her fingers, and pulling her up to breath. Her lungs burned like fire and her throat encased hot coals, only finding solace in the brush of cool lips. Clary found herself facing Jace, palms pressed against one another's. She was swimming in a hunter's gaze, _her_ husbands gaze. And losing herself within them lead to an understanding of the word eternal.

In this moment, in this point in space, Clary was bound to him, as he was to her. She felt, deep down, that even without the wedding, she would remain here. By some act of cruelty on her father's behalf, he had inadvertently given Clary the greatest gift there ever was. Love.

The people around them had been speaking in a tongue unknown to her. Once it stopped she had no idea what to do. She was starting to glance around when she felt cool fingers slide through hers, entwining them together. An unbreakable bond was formed as small red lines wound from his fingers to hers. A rune. The only one she would ever get. And then she was pulled into him, hands gripping her waist as she reached for his neck. Soft lips met in a dance of flowers and perfume; a caress of lips and minted breath.

The moment ended too soon. Jace pulled back and smiled before gesturing to the crowd. He gently took her hand and pulled her into the abyss of hands and warm words. As she walked she felt the gentle brush of hands as people reached out to touch her, whispering congratulatory words with the flow of air. They finally were met with a whiff of silence as she was led through a set of wooden doors.

Before anything could exit her mouth, Jace said, "The maids will see you out of this dress, and then lead you to the festivities." Noting the look on her face he continued, "I know that you have many questions, all of which will be answered, but not here, not now." With that he brushed past passed her with an almost inaudible _Goodbye, my love_. Clary blushed with a coy smile before turning to the maids and gesturing for their assistance.

After much fumbling and curses on Clary's behalf, the gown was slipped to the floor while she stepped out of it. One of the maids came to her side, informing her that the corset needed tightening. Clary turned and faced the vanity, leaning into it for support. She watched as her features tightened in discomfort with every tug, synching her waist with each pull.

A hurried gasp of relief washed over her as the gruesome process was finished. She sucked air into her lungs, appreciating the cool wave of air rushing through her lungs like water. Clary pushed off from the table, turning to face her torturers. In their hands was a pale lavender gown interlaced with small pearls. The gems spider webbed over the soft fabric before stopping a few inches short of the waistline. From there, only pale silk and gossamer flowed to the floor, so light that it more resembled smoke than clothe. As the gown was pulled over her frame, Clary smoothed it out with feather-light touches, afraid of snagging the artful drapery.

Not long afterwards, Clary found herself being led back to the reception. A part of her wanted to run back and hide under the many layers of wedding gown, while the other half wanted to seek out Jace's waiting arms. She wondered if she would always be torn between these two halves of her. All thoughts of this conflict were washed away as she stepped out of the empty halls. With her footsteps no longer echoing of the hard walls, Clary was finally allowed to breathe the scent of fresh rain, exotic herbs, and rich summer wines.

Unlike human weddings, no one waited for the new couple to dance. Instead it was an ocean of heated flesh and bone, moving with grace only attainable by the children of angels. There was something fascinating about the movements. Though soft and elegant, the light twirls and arched hands held the edge of a killer, stalking its unsuspecting prey. Soft notes drifted across the sea, lending a rhythm to the dancers and sending shivers convulsing down her spine. A sense of isolation came over her with the thought that she would never, _could never_, be one of them. She saw it on the many faces of the dance, glimpsing the shrouded faces of distaste, jealousy, and malice, all whipping away to be lost in the masses. In that moment Clary became very much aware of how small she was compared to them, not only her physique but also her mind and blood would never reach to their standards. She was meek and nothing more. A pale face washed over by an angry wave of sand and brittle shells.

Clary found herself standing alone in a terrace off to the side. Cold moonlight met the warmth of burning candles in a strange flow of breath and stitches. The smile had fell from her face the moment she abandoned the safety of the walls to meet her guests. She found herself wishing she had run back to her rooms. That option seemed to become more enticing with each tick of the clock. Clary turned around to face the steps leading back into the labyrinth of halls

"You aren't thinking of running from me again, Clary." The cool voice spoke from her right. She knew who it was immediately, though she remained still, eyes fluttering closed.

"Again?" She questioned.

"I could see it in your face when you walked down that isle." He paused, "I'm glad you didn't run then."

"Why?"

"Why what? Why was I glad- Clary," He raked his fingers through his hair. "I was happy that you came at all. I had every intent to marry you today."

"Why? Why me, Jace? You had all of those seraphic women to choose from and instead you picked me. Help me understand, please." Her voice must have sounded just as desperate as her face looked because the next thing she knew she was being held in a tight embrace.

"You don't think you're good enough for me. Is that what your unhappiness is about?"

Clary nodded, hiding her face in the base of his neck.

"You make me happy Clary." His breath stirred the loose curls of Clary's bun. "You also make me impossible angry." He laughed. "All I know is that the moment I saw that painting of you, I had to meet you. I don't know why, but in these few days I have known you, I have felt more alive. It seems as though I have known you for ages. That is why I chose you." He tipped her chin up, meeting her eyes. "You are one of the only things I have known to light up the darkness. No one could ever hate you."

Clary let a small smile come to rest upon her face, looking down at the moss in an attempt to avoid his eyes. Cool fingertips trailed up from her neck to the tip of her chin, turning her face toward his.

"Don't be sad." His lips gently met her own, sending warmth down her throat and to her toes. She tentatively stretched her feet in order to better reach his mouth. Their hands were tightly knotted together between the skin, bone, and muscle that separated their hearts. She gasped slightly earning a chuckle from Jace. He pulled away from her to rest his forehead against hers.

"Little love… come and enjoy our party."

They walked, hands wrapped in each other's embrace, to the throng of ribbon dancers and midnight drinking; back to the land of creatures and danger. More importantly to Clary, she was led from her sanctuary and forced to share _her _savior.

**Hey…I'm sorry for not updating. I know what I want to happen in this story, though I can't get the writing itself just right. I also wanted this to be longer, but wanted to update more. Soooo… This is the result. I hope you liked it, though I didn't edit this one as thoroughly so there may be mistakes. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW lovelies.**


	9. That of Binding

**Hey guys, I have a long AN at the bottom that you should read, but before you get there, I wanted to warn you guys that I am not very happy with how this turned out. My vampire mojo is failing me L sorry.**

That of Binding-

Jace pulled Clary through the crowd of congratulatory faces, hands interwoven as a chain. People had formed into various groups of old friends; chattering and reminiscing like morning birds. Every time they passed by, Clary could only catch snippets of the words exchanged in the devilish elegance of the Seraphic language, drawing on her curiosity like a lost kitten. She wished, more than anything that she could speak with them, enjoy with them, laugh with them. She supposed they were _her_ people now. Clary wasn't even sure what that meant.

"Clary," Jace's voice beckoned for her attention, "I would like for you to meet a few people." He gestured to the circle that Clary was now a part of. "Some of them you know from the journey here-" he said, meaning Magnus and Isabelle. "-and others not so much."

"Hello," Clary greeted kindly, reserving a smile for Isabelle and Magnus, who winked back while grinning. "I suppose you all know who I am, though, I'll introduce myself anyway." She paused, "I'm Clarissa Adele Morgenstern of the Morgenstern clan in Alicante."

"It's very nice to meet you at last." A boy with shaggy brown hair and a silly smile stepped forward. "My name is Simon Lewis. I work mostly in the library and archives, occasionally venturing out in search of a rare antiquity."

The boy, Simon, held his hand up at an awkward angle, slightly to Clary's left. Confused, Clary went to take his hand when Isabelle interrupted.

"Simon," She scolded, "Have you lost your glasses again?" Simon looked down sheepishly as Isabelle addressed Clary. "I'm sorry, he's near blind without his glasses and probably can't tell you from a teapot." Isabelle guided his hand into hers; releasing his wrist once he made contact with Clary.

"How do you do, Mr. Lewis?"

"Please, call me Simon, Mr. Lewis is far too old and formal- and I'm fairing quite well despite my loss of vision." He gave Clary a big toothy grin, squinting his eyes in a lame attempt to focus his vision on her face.

"Pardon me for asking but," Clary continued, "I thought that the Seraphs were known for perfect vision, among other things?"

Isabelle stepped forward again. "Simon isn't a child of the angel. He's human, like you." She drew his hand through her arm, resting her head on his shoulder and gazing at Clary with her doe-like eyes.

Clary let a smile break out on her face. "Another human! It makes me feel better knowing I'm not alone here."

Simon smiled back before turning and kissing Isabelle's forehead. The girl winked at Clary's questioning gaze, clutching the boy closer to her body.

"Now Clary," Jace started, "I know you have met Alec before, though it wasn't in the brightest of circumstances."

"Alec Lightwood." The tall and dark figure beside Magnus stepped forward, inclining his head in greeting.

"Clary Morgenstern." She responded while mirroring his position and noting the flirtatious looks Magnus gave the boy.

"Alec is my brother of a sort." Jace said. "Not by blood, but by binding. We are parabati, brothers linked in battle by runes. I have known the Lightwoods since I was not but a babe. We have trained together since we could walk and have fought together since we could form coherent thoughts." Jace smiled affectionately at Alec as the boy smiled back before returning his cold eyes to Clary. She felt Jace's lips against her ear as he whispered that Alec would grow on her, making Clary giggle and beam up at him.

After she became familiar with Jace's closest friends, he introduced her to a pair of werewolves, Maia and Jordan. They were both kind enough, though Clary was cautious, afraid of making one of them turn into their animalistic counterpart. After a few moments of conversation, Clary relaxed at their warm and controlled demeanor, even sharing a few jokes. She took a liking to Maia in particular, after she told her some of her adventure stories. The other girl spoke so fondly of her pack leader, Lucian, or Luke, that it made Clary wish to meet him. He sounded so gentle and kind, everything her father had not been, drawing a certain ache in her chest. Jace, noting the sad look in her eyes, kissed her temple while murmuring if she was all right. After she nodded her head, clearing it of all sadness, Jace pulled back and continued making the rounds to dozens of people.

Jace whisked her away into the crowd, intermingling with subjects. She saw so many faces and learned so many names that they all blurred together in one cacophony of hazy skin. Each person simply turned into one branch of a massive tree. It was impossible for her to follow any conversation for long as more and more people converged. She heard so many new dialects and accents that stories began weaving themselves together in one overbearing knot of thread. There was Jace's old statuesque tutor, Hodge, and children of family friends. Kaelie, Helen, Emma, Julian, Marcus, the names all continued until Clary gave up trying to free herself from the constant chaos. Music and singing and laughter attacked from all sides. The smell of sweat, perfume, forest, and wine clashed together in an overwhelming musk. Clary had had enough.

"Jace?" She caught his attention. "Jace, this is too much. I need to cool down before I make a fool of myself."

He nodded in understanding, rubbing soothing circles into her shoulder while it was too loud to talk. He led her to the edge of the masses and into a secret garden, protected by tall hedges. There was a quiet pond accompanied by a soothing trickle of stream water and the occasional splash from the fish in the water. They swam in soothing circles, catching the lantern light with their luminescent scales as whiskers intermingled with that of their same species. Their movements were fluid and effortless, a trait that Clary had always desired. The secluded cove of peace and quiet seemed to swallow the sound of the busy party guests, only breached by the drunken shouts of pride and foolishness. Clary sank gratefully to the ground, coming to rest with her legs tucked to the side.

"Thank you" She breathed, taking in a much-needed wash of oxygen to tame her heartbeat.

"I'm sorry. That must have been terribly overwhelming. I myself was growing flustered and I had been expecting this." A much-welcomed breeze tickled his cheeks and grazed his hair. "They all came to see you, Clary. They all came to see the girl that caught my heart and locked it away. You are my wife now. You are my most trusted advisor. You are the only thing that has given me hope since my people lost everything."

Clary's eyes were downcast, a deep crimson swimming up her cheeks. She had never been more thankful of a night sky than she was in that moment.

"I love that. I love it when your face heats up." He chuckled, a deep throaty laugh from his diaphragm. "I love your face." He drew her to his side, playing with her hands like an elaborate puzzle.

"You are so open about your emotions while I find it difficult to match. I fear that I will never be able to show it in the ways that you do. It frightens me to know that one-day, any day, you could lose faith in me. It scares me more that I won' know how to prove it to you. I have only known you for a short while, and yet I feel some connection to you. We share no blood or binding runes, save for this one," She gestured to her newly tattooed wrist. "But somehow I know you."

Jace stared at her a moment, the moonlight shown through his eyes.

"I will never doubt you."

It was a simple statement, only five words. Five words that hung from his lips, as gentle as a spider's web. Five words that drifted through the breeze, slipping between her parted lips, and running over her taste buds. They floated down her throat until finally taking their rest in the small cavern of her chest. The consonants and syllables wrapped themselves around her still heart, squeezing ever so gently until it pulsed. It began to make rhythm with her breaths, and sent her blood boiling through her body, delivering heat where it was needed.

Jace was what she needed to stay alive, to stay happy. He was what had been missing from her life.

Clary gently shifted her weight so that she could stand on her knees, matching his height. She brought her forehead to rest against his and breathed him in. She breathed all of him in, relishing in the wave of minted apples and sweet wine that tempted her senses. Her fingers stroked up his cheekbones, leisurely brushing the fine hair from his face.

"I love you." She whispered. "I love you. I love you. I do."

His eyes watched her in wonder, his lips unable to move.

Clary closed her eyes and memorized every single insignificant detail to preserve and relive this moment. This speck in time that marked the day, the minute, the second that Clarissa Adele Herondale realized her love.

She gently nuzzled him with her nose, tracing his face slowly until she could feel his lips. She took his bottom lip between hers, sucking on it until she heard a satisfactory moan. Only then did she press her lips in full to his. Silken hair curled around her fingertips as she clutched his face closer. She could feel his hands snake around her waist, shifting her so that she was perched on his lap. One hand remained at the small of her back, holding her body parallel to his, while the other cupped the back of her neck. It was not out of desperation but of confirmation. They had to know that the other was real, not some cruel trick of an over-active imagination. Clary found herself convinced of his sweet tongue, his burning skin, his soft hands, and his smooth chest. She was convinced of him as he was of her.

Just then, something slipped from her neck, swinging on their collarbones with cool metal kisses. Jace pulled back and examined her necklace with a satisfactory smile.

"Did Isabelle tell you?" He asked absently.

"Tell me of what?"

"This is my family ring, two blue herons at dusk, I put it in the gifting room. I knew it was unlikely, but I still hoped you would choose this one to wear. It was so simple, I assumed you would overlook it or that it would be lost among the obsidian and mother of pearl."

"Its value outshone all of the other pieces. I always have preferred simple in comparison to elaborate." She admired the ring as he turned it over and rolled it between his fingers. "And no, Isabelle did not tell me." She smiled up at him.

"Ne lune mrei, Clary. Ne lune mrei."

"What does that mean?"

"I love you, Clary. I love you."

"Jace?"

"Yes?"

"Ne lune mrei." He smiled and kissed her once more. "Come, we shall retire."

Clary sat in front of the mirror, candles flickering in the reflection. Her face was awash in the warm light, illuminating her current state. Jace had sent her ahead while he dismissed the guests, bringing the celebrations to an end. Though it was long past midnight, Clary was wide-awake. Her hands shook and cheeks flushed in anticipation. She knew what was to come next and yet, she wasn't sure if she should be excited of terrified.

'_When the night is done, I'll be a woman.'_

Something about that idea unsettled her. She couldn't quite grasp how this _experience_ would change her so drastically. Was she not a woman now? No, she was not but a girl, shaking in a near empty room.

'_Jace said he loved me. Jace said he loved me…" _She chanted in her mind to console its frantic and scattered thoughts.

Pale white spider lacing provided an excellent tool in occupying her hand. Her fingers wound through the lace clouds that made up her sleeping gown. When she had arrived in this new room, _his_ room, a nameless maid had helped her undress. Clary now bore a simple silken nightdress, accompanied by a lace robe. Her limbs, bear of all jewelry, now restlessly tapped on the hard surfaces of the floor and tabletop.

"Some wine." She whispered to the maid, now standing in the corner.

The girl darted from the room only to appear a moment later with a crystal goblet. A red wine, so dark that Clary could have mistaken it for blood, resonating in the clear facets of the goblet. Clary took the drink carefully, examining the contents for a moment. Fingers like a willow branch flicked toward the maid, dismissing her presence like one would swat a fly. Clary felt remorse for her dismissal of the girl, but had little patience in that moment.

Once alone Clary brought the wine to her lips. Deep red stained her mouth, dripping down her throat with a luxurious burn. Velvet pathways and scarlet rivers ran across her tongue, racing to calm her aching nerves. Clary was reminded of the heavy taste of honey over a sharply spiced chocolate cake, the kind she always had on her birthday.

Pulling back, Clary wiped her fingers over her lips, catching a stray droplet. It trickled down white knuckles, revealing the intricate patterns that made up her skin. She brushed it away quickly before it reached her robes her robes, leaving a permanent mark on the finery. It was far too pretty to allow for any marring.

Fingers light as dust trailed feather light touches to her shoulder. Frowning, Clary pushed back the lace, revealing her bare shoulder. The velveteen milk of her arms was traced, damaged, by three thin slashes of raised tissue. She could feel the imperfections as if they were craters and she was their moon. Long ago memories of her brother laughing, tears running rivers down her blackened cheeks.

"What is this?" A voice sounded behind her, fingers grasping her shoulder and feeling the markings.

Clary jumped, flicking the wine glass on to its side with a ringing bell. Red oozed across the white marble, pooling in any flaws, providing a sharp contrast of colors. The glass, now broken, rolled to the edge where a golden hand caught it.

"No need to fear, it is only me after all." A small smile played across his features, soon replaced by a concerned stare. "What's this?" He fingered her skin lightly.

"It's nothing." She turned her face away, brushing off his question in favor of gazing at a lovely selection of feathered quills.

She felt him kneel beside her, taking her hands in his. "Tell me Clary, I can see that it isn't nothing."

"It doesn't matter. Not anymore."

"Look at me." She did with begrudging eyes. "Someone hurt you, I can see that they are scratches from a human hand. If it concerns you, it matters to me... We are husband and wife now."

Sighing in resignation, Clary started, "My brother has always had a temper."

"And…" He pressed for more information.

"He blamed for any imperfections in his life. He was kind enough to take my punishment upon himself. Though my father new of these _meetings_, he did nothing to stop them. And so-" She took a deep breath. "Here we are today. They are only scratches, fading with time. It isn't worth any worry now."

She took his face firmly between her two hands, kissing him softly, teasingly, on the lips. Jace held her gaze for a few more moments before kissing her hand and rising to his feet.

Suddenly Jace looked nervous, unsure of what to do with himself. His eyes wandered to the flickering of the fire, eyes matching the color of the burning embers beneath. Shadows stretched, dancing in the light, as creatures from the dark rose up to defy the light.

Feeling a sudden courage come over her, Clary stepped up. "What is wrong Jace? You look worried."

His eyes shifted uncomfortably as he wrung his hands. "I could see before… that you were nervous. I know it is tradition to consummate the marriage on the wedding night, but I want you to know that I wouldn't force myself on you. If you want to wait-"

She cut him off with a kiss, taking his face in her hands. "Stop talking Jace."

And he did.

**Hey guys, I tried to make this chapter a little longer because my recent chapters in all of my fics have been shorter. I know where I want to take this story but am usually at a loss for words. I hold myself to a certain standard for these and it makes my angry when I don't reach it. I just want to make this as good as my readers deserve. **

**I am searching for a story that was called 'She's Broken'. I don't remember the author but I want to follow it. It was rated M and focused on Clary recovering sexual abuse she suffered from her brother. I know it had horses and that Clary was an outcast because of it. Sorry if that's weird but if you know it you should PM or comment for me.**

** I would like to give a shout out to the anon guest that reviewed this on 8/15/13, and say that your words mean so much to me. Every review I receive, both critical and not, make me so happy in knowing that you like my writing and are helping me to improve it further. Yes, I am continuing this story (obviously) and would like to know who you are. If you want to just PM me! Now, the sappy cuddle fest is over and you my read and review! Thanks guys! **


	10. Summer Breeze

Summer Breeze-

Warm light trickled across the room in uneven beams, illuminating the edges of the carvings on the walls. Natures breath streamed into the open windows, lightly tickling the pages of opened books and setting the curtains in a slow, swirling dance. The air was ripe with the smell of fresh rain and sunlight, setting a smile on the face of a waking Clary.

The insides of her eyelids were alive with the vibrancy of apricots and peaches, serving as a screen from the outside world. Only the pale webbing of veins, reminiscent of streams, interrupted the landscape of closed lids.

Clary sighed in contented warmth, trailing her fingers along her cheeks with the clumsy limbs of fresh sleep. Her fingernails traced up to her lashes, shielding her flickering gaze from the morning sun. Though she had rested better than any other night of her life, a foreign exhaustion weighed her down.

A soft voice drifted along the currents of air, as light as a feather. '_Good morning Clary'_, it cooed in admiration. Her eyes opened, and remained so this time, fixating on the ornately carved marble ceiling. A thin layer of gossamer fabric connected the four bedposts above her, blurring the intricate detailing.

Clary was perfectly comfortable. She was more relaxed than she had been in a long time. There was no worry in the back of her mind, no fear of her family anywhere to be found. She smiled in content as she gently arched her back, stretching all of the kinks that resided there. She raised her arms above her head, pressing her hands into the soft pillows there, relishing in the familiar pull of muscles.

"You look like a cat." A voice chuckled beside her.

It was then that Clary noticed just _how_ warm the bed really was. She turned to her side quickly, freezing when she came face to face with a broad chest.

Jace laughed at the shock on her face, drawing her into the circle of his arms. "If I didn't know better, I would have said you had forgotten where you were."

Clary only blushed in response, giggling into his neck as she traced the foreign markings on his sunlight skin.

"What does this mean?" The rune had captured her full attention. She found that she could not look away from the hypnotic lines. She could sense the power they held as if it was pulsing through the air like a tangible object. She could feel something crawling up her spine, one vertebra at a time, slowly reaching for the base of her skull. Clary couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have all of that energy burrowing through your mind on the receiving end of a fight; to have to battle with fear clawing at you from the inside. Fear that sucked the energy from your very being, eliminating the possibility of escape. Even worse was the knowledge that there were Demons strong enough to push theses beings to the brink of extinction.

Clary smiled. The rune was a piece of art in its own right. No one knew the power that art held better than Clary.

"It means _to ignite_" He smiled at her. "When one of us is in battle, we reach a state of being that is called Nahall. It is when a direct link is formed between one being and another. This rune forges the bond between Parabati, allowing a warrior into the battle state. It allows for unmatchable clarity, it _ignites_ the brothers as one."

Clary felt a cold shudder of desire run up through her blood. She desperately wanted to know what it would be like to hold that power in her hands. She wanted to know what it would feel like to hold the power to protect yourself and those you loved. She wanted to learn the ways of the blade as best she could. Though she knew she could never weild the power of the angels, she wanted to fight with the power of herself. Despite all of the chaos waging war, she knew one thing was certain.

"Will you train me?"

Jace laughed, pulling her up to kiss him with a muttered yes, before bringing the sheets up around them once more.

_Three Weeks Later_

"No! To the left, Jace, look to the left." Clary complained after Jace.

"How about I put my leg like this? You'll be able to admire more of me." He teased right back.

Clary rolled her eyes in annoyance, tossing her sketchbook over her shoulder and into the grass. "I give up. If you won't sit still, I won't draw you."

"Such a tragedy." He scoffed. "I suppose I must find a new artist to bask in my glory."

Clary scowled at him, throwing her pencil so that it glanced off of his arm. The scowl was ripped off of her face as an arm snaked around her waist, pulling her level with the ground. She found herself face to face with her husband, back pressed to the honeyed grass that covered these hills. She was reminded of their first picnic together, when she realized there was more to him than she had originally thought. That was the day, in a moment much like this that she had let her fears go with the summer breeze. Smiling up at him, Clary tucked a loose curl behind his ear, allowing her fingers to linger on a small scar beneath his right eye.

_The remnants of a faded rune,_ she realized.

With that, Clary turned to her side, pressing her back to Jace's chest, and gazed out at the meadow before them. The tall grass wove back and forth, mimicking the pattern of the ocean waves. It was a sea of wheat, and flowers, and sage, only interrupted by the occasional tree sprout or mushroom.

Her eyes than wandered to the sketchbook lying just out of her reach. When she had bought the leather-bound journal she had only managed to examine it a little. She hadn't realized until now just how beautiful it was. A great eye surrounded by unnamed symbols, was pressed into the soft oxblood cover. Small figurines of the most exotic lions she had ever seen stood at the base of two pillars, framing the book. Up close, she could see that it had been bound by only the most skilled of craftsman, and held together with the elegant stitching of master artisan. The thought of the journal's creators made Clary's fingers itch to draw. Gingerly, she reached her arm out toward the masterpiece itself, stretching as far as she could. Just before her fingers reached the binding, another hand swooped down, claiming prey to the delicate pages.

Jace eyed her victoriously as he turned, keeping the book out of her reach.

"Jace!" She exclaimed. "Give it to me."

"I fear that you will never show me your work willingly, and in doing so, you have forced my hand."

Clary rolled to her knees, ignoring the uncomfortable stretch of the lace dress, and leaned over Jace in a lame attempt at retrieving the stolen object.

"I only keep it out of your reach because you always take it. You created the problem, couldn't live with the punishment, and now continue to further your predicament." She pouted her lip in a way that she knew would make him give up his efforts.

"That look won't foil me this time Clarissa, my powers of self control have grown tremendously, of that I can assure you." He moved his hand even further away this time, forcing Clary to lean over him. She yelped in surprise when he shifted his weight, causing her to all but fall on him. "Though I must say," He continued. "This new tactic of yours might just work."

Clary's cheeks flared scarlet as she realized that he had positioned her just so, that when she fell, her chest had ended up right next to his face. He gave her a devious smirk before allowing his gaze to flicker down. Using this distraction to her advantage, Clary lunged for the book, seizing it before he could snatch it back, and curled it into her chest. She wouldn't let him get it this time.

"My clever little girl." Jace cooed, rolling her into his embrace once more, cradling the sketchbook between them. "Always a trick up your sleeve." He kissed her nose. "People like you are the reason why I find I can't trust redheads. You people are always plotting something."

Clary laughed at the serious look on his face, kissing his neck and nipping at it gently. "You are wise beyond your years Jace Herondale."

"And you are the only one to match me at my own game Clarissa _Herondale_." She beamed at the name. Something about it just felt right to Clary.

Pressing her face into the crook of his neck, she said, "As much as I would love to lounge about in the sun all day, some of us have fair skin, and would look like a tomato soon."

"But I love tomato's." He complained.

"Though that may be the case, I'm guessing you don't like grouchy wives in pain."

Jace started at that, hurrying to stand up. Before Clary could react, Jace had pulled her to her feet, rushing her back to the horses.

"I agree! Lets get you inside quick!"

Clary laughed once more, allowing him to help her up onto her brown mare.

"You know, ever since you came along, Wayfarer has been a lot more stubborn. He seems to like you far more than I had originally intended."

"I can't help it if he has better taste than you give him credit for." She smirked at him before spurring her horse into a gallop. She couldn't be sure, but she though she heard him scoff something along the lines of _'redheads.'_

**Sorry it's so short! I might not be able to update the rest of September due to my schedule, but I decided to give you guys something cute and happy for the remainder of my absence. Think of it as a "calm before the storm" sort of thing. **


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